


Chalked Up

by 60atin3le88, ArwenLalaith



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Athletes, Gymnastics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 46
Words: 47,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60atin3le88/pseuds/60atin3le88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLalaith/pseuds/ArwenLalaith
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Emily Prentiss is staring down the barrel of her last chance to make the Olympic gymnastics team and things in her life are about as good as she has any hope of them getting when she meets one Derek Morgan who seems determined to upend her life in every way imaginable.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Emily Prentiss, Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss, Various Canon Ships
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We've taken a buttload of artistic liberty with what life is like at the Olympic Training Centre, so just keep that in mind if something seems wildly inaccurate!

Emily did nothing to disguise the fact that she wasn't paying attention to the French lesson.

With a razor blade, she pared down the ragged edges of her palm where the skin had ripped away after parallel bars practice, leaving bloody red rips.

The boy in the seat next to her wasn't paying attention either – but mostly because he was too busy watching her.

Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced over at him, one brow raised pointedly, before she returned back to the painstakingly precise routine of preparing her palms. She took out a nail file next, smoothing and sanding the remaining skin with more care than she'd ever shown to her actual nails which were perpetually short and uneven from chewing them in pre-meet nerves.

Finally, she squeezed a small amount of numbing gel onto the tender pink skin. She would never use it before a meet when every little nerve in her palm mattered, but she had enough time before her next practice that she wasn't worried. It was the only way she was going to be able to hold a pencil for her biology test next period...

Her hands wouldn't be in this condition if she would just use grips like the rest of the girls on the team, but she had trained without them in Russia and now she couldn't quite make herself trust them. She much preferred the feeling of skin to fibreglass, no leather separating her hands from the surface beneath. She couldn't make herself trust that the bars were still there when the sensation was dulled by a leather barrier – it was illogical, she knew, but it had gotten her this far and she was far too superstitious to change anything now.

As she began the process all over again on her other hand – just as ripped and bloody as the first – she could still feel the boy's eyes on her. She turned back to look at him, this time whispering, “There a problem?”

“That's gross,” he informed her.

She gave an unladylike snort of laughter. He was right, but she wasn't about to tell him that. “Gymnastics isn't all ribbons and revealing leotards,” she informed him.

“Touche,” he agreed. “Your hands look worse than mine.” He held up his palms to prove it – they were blistered and calloused, but nothing like her own. “Rugby,” he explained.

She gave him a nod of respect. “Emily,” she offered by way of introduction. She didn't offer a hand to shake (uncertain whether he'd actually want to touch her mangled hands anyway).

“Derek,” he replied, flashing her a million watt smile.

Before either of them could say anything further, the teacher approached, speaking in rapid French abouthow they weren't paying attention.

Emily barely managed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, retorting in equally advanced French that Derek didn't understand a word of because he actually _hadn't_ been paying attention.

Miffed, but unable to reprimand any further, the teacher wandered away, leaving Derek staring at Emily, mouth hanging open slightly. “How did you do that?” he asked in awe.

“I lived and trained in France for several years,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh... Cool,” was the only reply Derek could manage that wouldn't have made him sound creepy and weird.

“I guess,” she said with a shrug. She flexed and unflexed her hands, testing the tender pink newly exposed skin on her palms. A little stiff, but it would have to do for the time being...besides, they'd just be shredded all over again after practice that night.

Anything else he might've said was lost as the bell rang, indicating the end of class. Like a shot, Emily had crammed all her possessions into her backpack and joined the wave of students flooding the hallways and he was quickly losing his excuse to talk to her further.

“Emily,” he called after her, pushing people out of the way, perhaps a little too roughly, “Hey, Emily...” When that failed to catch her attention, he shouted, “Hey, Princess!”

At that, she stopped in her tracks, turned, brow raised in a way that was half irritation, half amusement like she couldn't quite decide which emotion she should be feeling at the moniker. “Excuse me?”

It occurred to him then that he didn't actually have a plan and he stammered awkwardly for a few moments as he struggled to think of something. “Oh, I, umm... I was wondering...”

“Yes?” she prompted, impatient.

“What class do you have this period?” he asked.

“Biology,” she replied, turning her back to him and spinning the combination lock on her locker. “And I have a test that I'm going to be late for...” When that failed to prompt further response from him, she sighed rather dramatically. “Is this going somewhere or...?”

“Right,” he said, wincing at his total lack of tact. “Could you, umm...could you tutor me in French?” he asked, using the first reasonable excuse he could come up with to spend more time with her. At the unimpressed look she flashed over her shoulder, he explained, “Obviously, paying attention in class is not my strong suit and if I don't keep a B average, my mom won't hesitate to pull me out of here in a heartbeat...”

She turned back to him, biology textbook in hand. “I can't.”

“Why not?” he asked, frowning in disappointment.

“Because I can't.”

He groaned. “Come on... Give me one good reason,” he wheedled.

“Ian won't let me,” she said, giving in to him with an impatient expression.

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “I didn't... Umm, I didn't realize you...”

She rolled her eyes. “Ian is my trainer. And he has a very strict rule about extra-curriculars. Especially ones with boys.”

“Sounds like a real tyrant,” he declared. “You're a kid, you should be allowed to have some fun...”

Emily scowled. “Maybe you have time to have fun, but this is the last year I have any chance of making the Olympic team, so you'll have to excuse me if _fun_ is the last thing on my mind,” she snapped.

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped off to her biology class and, he was certain, out of his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

With a dramatic groan, Emily flopped back on her bed, sinking into the mattress with exhaustion. “What's wrong with boys?” she asked the room at large.

Her roommate laughed, approached through the open door to her bedroom. “I didn't realize it was possible to have boy problems when you're hopelessly single...”

“Shut _up_ ,” Emily retorted, throwing a pillow at the blonde, but she didn't throw it very hard because she knew JJ was only teasing.

JJ dropped unceremoniously onto the bed beside Emily. “What happened?”

“People don't _get_ that a gymnastics career is over in the blink of an eye and if I don't make the team this year, it's over for me,” she griped. “Other sports have a fucking _lifetime_ , so they can afford to piss around and do whatever it is that teenagers do...”

JJ gasped with mock horror. “Don't tell me someone asked you to have _fun_!?”

“You're an ass,” Emily declared, pushing JJ off the bed.

Landing with a thud on the floor, JJ barked out a laugh. “You are such a drama queen,” she declared. “Do you want to go for a run?”

Emily pushed herself to sit up. “Don't tell me, let me guess... Will is practicing down at the track and you want to go ogle him?”

JJ shrugged, picking herself up off the floor. “Just because you've sworn off all boys, doesn't mean we all have.”

“I haven't 'sworn off' guys,” Emily argued.

“No, no,” JJ agreed, “You're just hot for teacher...”

“Jayje!” Emily cried, “Don't say that!” She reached out to shove her again, but JJ ducked out of reach before she could make contact.

“It's _true_ ,” she insisted. “I mean, I don't blame you, he's got the whole silver fox thing going on.” She shrugged, smirking.

“Yeah, but don't _say_ it!”

“Emily and Ian sitting in a tree...” JJ sing-songed. She trailed off, making kissy noises.

“I'm going to kill you,” Emily muttered, rolling her eyes.

JJ bounded out of the room, laughing. “Is that a no on the run, then?”

Emily glowered at her retreating back. “I'll go, but only because I need the cardio.”

...

In spite of the late evening hour, the track was swarming with athletes – and the bleachers packed with those come to stare at them. It was unseasonably warm for early spring, meaning there were more than a few bare chests to be seen...not that Emily was looking. JJ, on the other hand was making no secret of her staring. Granted, she only had eyes for Will, but staring nonetheless.

“Could you be any more obvious?” Emily asked, rolling her eyes as the two of them settled into their dynamic stretching. She lowered herself into a lunge, opening up her hips. “You're practically a heart-eyes emoji right now.”

“Could you be more annoying?” JJ retorted, sticking her tongue out at her, but she did so playfully.

“You're such a child,” Emily replied. JJ reached over and pushed Emily, causing her to fall out of her lunge and land in the grass. Both girls burst out laughing.

Their bickering was interrupted then by a cheerful exclamation of, “Hey! Princess!”

“Son of a bitch...” Emily muttered under her breath as Derek jogged up to them, signature smile on his face. JJ gave her a curious look, but didn't have time to ask her about her reaction before he reached them.

“What are two pretty ladies such as yourselves getting up to all alone?” he asked, pausing his workout to stretch out his quads.

“What does it look like we're doing?” Emily replied sarcastically. She pushed herself back to her feet and resumed her stretching.

“Touche,” he said with a self-deprecating little laugh. “Hey, so...” he started to say, but before he could get any further, the coach began screaming his name and Derek laughed a little, shrugged. “Gotta run.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, JJ turned to Emily with wide eyes. “Spill,” she demanded.

Emily just gave her an exasperated look. “There's nothing to _spill_.”

“Don't you know who that is?” she exclaimed, looking at her like she'd lost her mind. When she continued to steadfastly deny the existence of any juicy details, JJ elaborated, “That's _Derek Morgan_... I swear, every single one of my teammates has a crush on him. Girls would _kill_ to get his attention.”

“I've heard it really doesn't take all that much to get it...” she muttered.

“He likes you,” JJ said knowingly. Her grin was entirely too smug for Emily's liking.

“He does not,” she argued. “He literally just met me and I was a bitch.”

“You're always a bitch.”

“Gee, thanks.” She rolled her eyes.

“You should go out with him,” JJ said as if she hadn't spoken. “You'd make the cutest power couple – I bet you could totally sell that to magazines! I can see the headlines now...”

“You sound like my mother,” Emily scoffed. “That's beside the point though – I'm not allowed to date and I don't want to. Boys just take up precious time and energy that could be better spent on training.”

“You're boring,” JJ declared with finality.

At that moment, Will came jogging up, pulling JJ into his chest and kissing her. “Hey, Cher...” he drawled once he detached himself from her lips. “I've missed you.”

“You saw me like three hours ago,” JJ pointed out, giggling with sickening sweetness. She leaned in for another kiss.

Emily rolled her eyes, taking off running down the track without her.

It wasn't long before Derek was running alongside her. “Hey, so, the rugby team is throwing a party later tonight. You should drop by.”

“Nope.”

“Come on. It'll be fun...” he trilled.

“Oh, in that case, _no_.”

He sped up, veered in front of her, and turned so that he was running backwards. “Hey, Em, I'm sorry if I offended you or something. I really just want to be friends.”

She offered a tight smile. “You seem really sweet and everything, but I'm not here to make friends.” With that, she sprinted off, leaving him behind.


	3. Chapter 3

“Stick the landing!” Ian shouted from across the gym as Emily prepared for her dismount from the beam.

They'd spent all evening working on the dismount and, though she'd certainly attempted – and landed – more difficult tricks, she couldn't quite stick this one.

She stood at the end of the beam, focusing on the place her hands would land, breathing slow and deep, preparing herself.

“While we're young, Em...”

She bounced her leg a few times before taking three steps and launching herself into the Arabian double salto forward tuck. She could hear Ian cheer as she landed, until she bobbled, fell to the mat.

Before she could move, he was helping her to her feet. “Damn it, Em,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why can't you hit this?”

She panted, shook her head, wiped her bangs off her sweat-slicked forehead. “Sorry, Coach...”

“Don't 'coach' me,” he chided, one side of his lips quirking up in a smirk.

Her mischievous grin mirrored his as she surged forward to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his.

He indulged her for a few moments, returning the kiss with fervour before gently easing back. “Not here,” he scolded, “You know better.”

“Maybe you should teach me a lesson...” She bit her lip with fake coyness.

He rested a hand on her cheek, thumb ghosting over her bottom lip. “You know I'm not buying the innocent little good girl act, right?” He said it with a wicked smile – she knew he liked it when she played innocent.

“I'm not innocent,” she whispered, barely a breath of space between their lips. Her hands on his chest began wandering lower.

But before she could reach her target, he halted her movement, fingers closing around her wrists, much as he might have wanted to let her continue. “We can't do this – not here.”

Before she could protest, someone cleared their throat from nearby. Emily felt her stomach plummet, ice flood through her veins – she'd thought they were alone in the gym...

“Everyone always said you were a favourite to make the team, thanks to your 'moves'...” Chloe remarked airily, approaching the two of them like a cat toying with a mouse, her grin all too pleased with herself. “I always assumed they meant in the gym. Now, I realize they meant the bedroom.”

“Screw you, Donaghy,” Emily replied, purposely using her last name to distance herself as much as possible from the other gymnast. She'd never liked the other girl, from the moment they'd met, something about her had immediately rankled Emily, though she couldn't have said what exactly it was.

“Oh, it's not me you want to screw...” Chloe said with a laugh. “I always knew you had Daddy issues, but _God_...”

“ _Girls,_ ” Ian said sharply, warningly. “I won't have fighting in my gym.”

“Sorry, Coach,” Emily murmured, but she continued staring daggers at the other girl.

Ian continued, “Chloe, you should follow Emily's example – if you worked half as hard as her...”

“I don't need to spend all night working on one dismount,” Chloe said, gaze never leaving Emily's, “ _Some_ of us made the team on genuine talent, rather than sleeping our way in...”

“That's enough, Chloe,” Ian demanded.

“Ian, I can defend myself,” Emily insisted. She opened her mouth to spit a barbed retort at Chloe, but Ian shot her a warning look and she instead swallowed the barbs. She turned on her heel, marching off in the direction of the change room.

...

“Go away!” Emily called out, voice warbling in spite of herself when she heard the door to the change room swing open, followed by footsteps approaching.

“Em, it's Tsia...”

Emily sighed, relented. “In here,” she replied, kicking open the door to the bathroom stall where she'd cloistered herself, knees pulled into her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

Tsia swept into the cramped space, wrapped an arm around Emily's shoulders comfortingly, then proceeded to lightly smack her upside the head. “Are you seriously wasting your time crying about something _Chloe Donaghy_ said?” Tsia asked incredulously. “You're Emily fucking Prentiss – your _Firebird_ inspired floor routine at the WAG championships is _legendary_. Chloe can barely do a fucking cartwheel.”

Emily couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up at that. She smudged away a few tears, taking her mascara with them.

“Em, you're giving her too much power – she attacks you psychologically because she knows point for point, she can't hold a candle to you in the gym. She's trying to throw you off your game...don't let her win. You're the best gymnast here, prove that to her.”

That finally got a smile out of her, though it was perhaps a little watery. “Thanks, Tsia... I needed to hear that.”

“No problem,” Tsia said, holding out a hand to her and pulling her to her feet. “Besides, if you put Chloe in her place, maybe she'll shut her damn mouth and leave the rest of us alone.”

“Ah,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “How very magnanimous of you.” She wrapped her arms around her friend in a silent thank you. She moved to the sink to splash water on her face – she refused to give Chloe the satisfaction of being seen with red puffy eyes over something she'd said. “I'm fucking starving,” she declared over the sound of running water, “Want to grab a protein shake?”

Tsia glanced at her watch. “It's almost ten o'clock,” she pointed out. “And protein shakes are disgusting.”

“So? I've been training for three hours...”

“You've been making the rest of us look bad, is what you've been doing,” she muttered teasingly.

“Someone has to,” Emily teased, tipping a wink over her shoulder.

“Bitch,” Tsia muttered jokingly. She handed Emily a wad of paper towel to dry off her face. “Do you really think you can nail the Patterson dismount?” she asked.

“Chloe saw me flub it, so I don't have a choice.” She'd evidently seen a lot more than that, but that was an issue Emily certainly wasn't about to discuss with anyone, even someone she trusted as much as Tsia.


	4. Chapter 4

The shrill whine of the coach's whistle brought the scrimmage to a sudden halt. “ _Morgan_!” the rugby coach screamed from the sidelines as Derek fumbled yet another easy pass. “Where's your head at today!?”

“Sorry, Coach,” Derek apologized, wishing he felt guilty about his performance, but not quite able to muster the emotion. He jogged over to the coach, slightly out of breath from running non-stop plays for the last two hours.

“I don't want to hear apologies – if you want to stay on the team, you have to give everything you have to the game. You're not playing alone out there, you're not _part_ of the team, each one of you _is_ the team and if you play badly, the team plays badly. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it,” he insisted. “I guess I'm just having an off day.”

“School or girl?” the coach asked amiably, clapping a hand on Derek's shoulder.

“I... I don't...” he stammered awkwardly, unsure how the coach knew and whether he wanted to admit the truth. “I'm not...”

“Morgan, I think I know you,” the coach said, fixing him with a pointed look. “You always put your heart and your mind into the game. Today, I can see that your heart is here, but not your mind. So, tell me...where's your head at? Problems at school or with a girl?”

“Both, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

The coach nodded as if he'd suspected as much. “It's happened to the best of us. Tell you what, hit the showers. Go back to your dorm, figure your shit out, and when you come back tomorrow, I want to see you giving one hundred percent to your game. Got it?”

Derek offered a grateful smile. “Yes, Coach. Thank you.”  
...

“Damn it!” Derek exclaimed, slamming his French textbook closed and tossing his pen on the desk. His homework sheets fluttered about with the force, his bescherelle falling to the floor. He'd spent the better part of the last two hours attempting to finish the translations, but no matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind kept wandering back to Emily – the easy way the French fell from her lips, the way they quirked up in a sassy smile as the teacher turned her back...wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips.

With an annoyed sigh, he stood, running his hands over his head. He needed a distraction – anything to get her out of his head...

He grabbed his cell phone off the desk, put on his headphones, and went off in search of distraction. Preoccupied as he was, he missed the tiny body headed straight for him until they'd quite literally collided.

“Son of a...” Derek muttered as the other person bounced off his chest like a fly, spilling to the floor with a loud clatter of books. “Watch where you're...” he started.

He was interrupted by a young voice squeaking, “I-I'm sorry!”

“Spencer?” Derek said, feeling guilty for lashing out upon realizing who he'd collided with. “I didn't see you.” He extended a hand, pulling him to his feet and offering an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I assumed so,” Spencer mumbled, dusting himself off and collecting his scattered books and papers. “I was just headed to the library to calculate a way to improve my knock-down, but I needed some information I could only get in physics books.”

Derek laughed. “You ever hear of the internet, kid?” he teased.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, missing the sarcasm completely. “The internet is the global system of interconnected computer networks that use...” he began to ramble.

Derek held up a hand to stem the tide of information. “You know what? Nevermind.” A thought occured to him then – the kid may not have had a clue about how to help him with girls, but he could sure as hell teach him a thing or two about studying. “Hey, Pretty Boy...is there a quick and easy way to learn French? I really need to get an A on my next test and I'm in way over my head here...”

“Why don't you get a tutor?” he suggested. “My friend JJ's roommate used to live in France – she's fluent in like six languages – I bet she'd totally help you out if you asked. Her name is Emily. She should be in your class and I think...”

Derek cut him off with a protracted groan. ' _Of fucking course_...' he thought to himself. “That'd be a great plan, kid,” he said, “If she didn't already hate my guts.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?” he asked suspiciously.

“What!?” Derek asked, affronted. “Why do you think I did something?” Spencer just stared at him, brow raised. “Nothing!” he insisted. “I didn't do anything. She's just not interested in helping me.”

“What?” Spencer spluttered. “What kind of girl isn't interested in _Derek Morgan_?”

“The kind of girl with a really strict coach who won't let her spend time with boys...”

“Right,” Spencer said with a knowing nod. “She's a gymnast.”

“What's that got to do with it?” Derek asked, confused.

“Well, chances are, this is her last shot at making the Olympic team. Her coach likely has her using every spare minute to train. Anything outside the gym would be seen as a distraction,” he explained. “It's nothing personal, I'm sure.”

“It sure feels personal...” he muttered, pouting perhaps a little childishly. “I'm not trying to fuck her, I just want to be her friend.”

Spencer's cheeks pinked at his crass language. “Maybe once they announce who made the team, she won't be quite so...intense.”

“I have a feeling she's always intense.”

Spencer nodded slowly. “I met her once...she scares me.”

Derek laughed. “Kid, a strong breeze scares you.”

“Does not,” he argued, glaring as Derek chucked him under the chin. “You know,” he said, changing the subject, “My mother says girls can sense when men are changing. When you're ready, certain kinds of girls – the _right_ kind of girls – will find you. It's only when you're ready though...”

Derek stared blankly at him for a few moments, mouth hanging open slightly in suprise. “Are you really trying to school me on females right now?”


	5. Chapter 5

Emily rolled her eyes, pushed her food around her plate, long since having lost her appetite. She hated her weekly brunches with her mother – they all went exactly the same: they exchanged cold yet polite small talk, Elizabeth would tell her why she wasn't good enough, Emily would get pissed off, they'd trade hurtful words, and Emily would storm off. Today was unlikely to be any different.

“I've been thinking,” Elizabeth said diplomatically, “We really need to work on your Instagram following – I've seen some of the other team hopefuls' profiles and their numbers aren't all that impressive, but it never hurts to improve your standing. I'll start reaching out to brands, asking about sponsorship deals, set up some meethings... After the wild success of your Clif Bars ad campaign, I'm sure businesses will be clamouring to work with you.”

“When?” Emily asked, glaring at the table, stabbing a piece of melon angrily with her fork.

“When what, Emily?” Elizabeth asked, looking surprised by the interruption, almost as if she'd forgotten her daughter was there.

“When exactly do you think I'll have time to do all this?” she snapped, voice rising with each word. “You expect me to have perfect grades in school, perfect scores in the gym, and perfect numbers on social media...well, guess what, Mother, maybe I'm just not _perfect_!”

“Emily, don't raise your voice,” Elizabeth scolded, keeping her tone level.

“Or what, Mother? People might _judge_ us?” She stood suddenly, chair scraping loudly against the floor, attracting attention from the other restaurant patrons.

“Emily, sit down,” Elizabeth hissed between clenched teeth. “You have an image to uphold – you're a role model, you can't be seen throwing tantrums like a child.”

“Excuse me for having emotions,” she muttered, but she dropped back into her seat anyway.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her daughter's histrionics. “Emily, aren't we a little old for these theatrics? You're about to be an Olympian, you're better than this.”

“Mother, you've been forcing me to be 'better than this' since I was four years old. I think I can be forgiven for not being the perfect picture of stone-faced solemnity at all times.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I apologize – I can't imagine the kind of pressure you're under right now.”

Emily offered a tight smile, opened her mouth to apologize as well, but didn't get the chance for Elizabeth was once again launching into another diatribe.

“...but now is the time to capitalize on your success,” Elizabeth continued. “You'll never have a better opportunity to build a platform to launch your future off of.”

Emily scoffed, tossed her napkin aside. “It's always something with you!”

“Emily, please...” Elizabeth started to protest.

“You've never once stopped to ask me what I want...it was always what _you_ thought best.”

“I was only ever thinking of you,” Elizabeth insisted.

“No, you were thinking about what I could do for your reputation,” Emily countered. “I don't give a damn about Instagram or sponsorship or any of that crap, I just want to be _normal_.”

“But you're _not_ normal – you were always destined for better than 'normal'.” Elizabeth sighed in disappointment, shook her head. “Maybe your coach is working you too hard. You know that Russian girl you used to train with – the one you could never quite beat – well, her private coach is currently available. I was thinking that perhaps, a few private lessons and...”

“No offence, Mother, but you don't know anything about Ian or me. So, maybe next time you want to help me, you'll think twice and stay _out_!” Emily said, nearly shouting now as she stood from the table a second time, pulling on her coat.

“Emily, sit down,” Elizabeth demanded under her breath.

“No, Mother, I'm done. If you ever mature enough emotionally to apologize, call me.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the restaurant.

...

“How are the pancakes, Dear?” Fran asked as Derek wolfed down his breakfast with gusto.

“Delicious as always, Mama,” he replied through a mouthful of food.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” she scolded gently. “I swear, they must not feed you at that school because every time you come to visit, you eat me out of house and home.”

“Hey, I'm a growing boy,” he defended himself. He flexed one arm to show off his bicep. “You don't get this swole by eating rabbit food.”

Fran rolled her eyes teasingly. “My son the comedian...”

Derek just laughed. “Is there any coffee left?” he asked, licking syrup off his fork.

“You shouldn't be drinking coffee,” Fran insisted, “You're too young for all that caffeine. Are you getting enough sleep?”

He shrugged, trying to hide his guilty expression. “Most of the time,” he said evasively.

Fran raised a brow, giving him a look only a mother could.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded. “I've pulled a few all-nighters. But it's not my fault! It's that damn French homework...I haven't understood a word the teacher's said all semester and if I don't get my grades up, my average will slip and you said...”

“Honey, you're putting too much pressure on yourself,” Fran said gently. “You're only sixteen, you have your whole life ahead of you to go to the Olympics, maybe right now...”

He shook his head, not letting her finish that thought. “I try to give one hundred percent to school and rugby and...I don't know, I just feel like no matter how hard I work, it's never enough!” He felt frustrated tears building behind his eyes, but refused to let them fall, refused to burden his mother like that.

Fran swept her son into her arms. “I'm sorry, sweetie, it wasn't my intention to upset you. I just worry about you – you're being forced to grow up so quickly. Sometimes, I wish you were just a normal teenager, enjoying your life instead of carrying the weight of the country's expectations on your shoulders like this.”

Derek sighed, relaxed into his mother's embrace. “I know, Mama...but this is what I want. I promise.”

Fran released him, rested a hand on his cheek. “As long as you're happy...”

He nodded his insistence that he was, in fact, happy. Even if it didn't feel like it just then.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek thanked the cashier, dropped his change in the tip jar, and turned to walk away when, for the second time in a week, he crashed into someone. Unfortunately, this time, his smoothie went everywhere...all over the front of the worst possible person.

“God dammit!” Emily snapped, dripping with smoothie. She shook out the book in her hands, pages splattered with the pink liquid.

“Emily, I'm so sorry!” Derek effused, grabbing a handful of napkins to mop up the mess. This was just his luck...the universe wasn't going to be happy until she hated his guts.

“Perfect,” she muttered, “Just _perfect_. A fantastic end to a fantastic morning...”

Derek realized then that there was no way he could mop her up without accidentally copping a feel, so he offered her the napkins. “I'm really _very_ sorry – I could...pay to have your dress dry cleaned?”

She let out an aggravated sigh, snatching the napkins away and wiping smoothie off her dress. “No, it's fine. It's _perfect_.” She wasn't about to tell him that her mother had bought the dress for her and it had likely cost several hundred dollars – she didn't really like the dress all that much in the first place, so she wasn't too cut up over this.

“You've really had a great morning, huh?”

“How'd you know?” she grumbled, dropping her arms to her sides, napkins balled uselessly in her fist.  
Figuring the question was mostly rhetorical anyway, he offered, “Can I at least buy you an apology smoothie”

She could see by his expression that he was genuinely sorry and wanted to make it up to her. She offered him a smile. “Maybe I should be buying you a replacement smoothie for being such a bitch to you...”

“Call it even?” he suggested, flashing his winning smile.

Her return smile was tentative, but she agreed anyway. “Sure.”

When her expression remained gloomy, he felt guilt swell inside him for reasons he couldn't quite name. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said, sighed. “Maybe. I don't know.” She glanced down at the ground, scuffed the toe of her heels across the pavement. “Do you ever wish you could just hang up on your mother in real life?”

“Can't say that I do,” he admitted. He flashed an apologetic smile, hoping that didn't sound too much like he was rubbing it in.

She shook her head. “My mother runs my social media accounts – she's obsessed with turning me into a 'brand' or some stupid shit like that. She never shuts up about it. Every time I see her, it's always _something_ – today, she was going on about brand sponsorships and turning me into an Instagram influencer...”

“I saw your Clif Bar campaign,” Derek said, “My mom said you were cute as a button.”

“Ugh,” Emily groaned. “Don't let my mother hear that... She was going for professional.”

“Your mother sounds like a real piece of work...”

Emily gave an unladylike snort. “You have no idea. Ever since I started gymnastics at the age of four, she's been pushing the Olympics on me. Honestly, half the time, I'm not even sure if I really want to be here or if she's just brainwashed me to the point of thinking I do.”

“Hey,” he said bumping her shoulder with his. “You're the one putting in all the hard work, you're the one giving up your teenage years to train...you wouldn't be doing that if you didn't really want to be here.”

“That's what I tell myself anyway.” She gave a small humorless laugh. “What about you? Got a crazy stage mother?”

He tried not to smile too hard at the mention of his mother, lest he seem to be taunting her. “My mom's the best... It's just her, my sisters, and me. When I got invited to the training centre, she packed up her life in Chicago to move to Colorado so I could pursue my dream.”

She tried not to let jealousy bleed into her smile. “Must be nice. If I have one more brunch with my mother droning on and on about interviews and leotard catalogue photoshoots, I'm going to blow my brains out.”

“Don't do that,” he urged, “How else is the country supposed to medal in gymnastics?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Wow...that was cheesy.” But she was trying to hide her smile at the compliment. “You seem like a really nice guy,” she conceded. “I'm sorry for treating you badly.”

He shook his head, brushed off her apology. “It's already forgotten.” He realized then that she was still dripping with the remains of his drink. “Can I walk you back to your dorm so you can change?”

She shrugged. “I could probably manage by myself...but I won't stop you if you really want to.”

“I really do,” he insisted. He glanced down at the now ruined book in her hand. “What are you reading?”

Her eyes darted to the book and then away just as quickly. “Nothing,” she said.

“I just want to know so I can replace it,” he said, “I'm not going to judge your girly Harlequin romance choices.”

Emily scoffed. “Just when you were starting to seem cool, you go and say something like that...” She swatted him with the book. “I'll have you know it's Kurt Vonnegut. You probably haven't read it.”

He held up his hands in self-defense. “I'll have _you_ know I happen to love Kurt Vonnegut,” he countered. “I read _Slaughterhouse Five_ when I was twelve and it blew my mind. Seriously, I couldn't get enough, so I just kept going and I read them all.”

Her mouth hung open for a few moments in surprise. “Yeah, me too. What's your favourite?” She couldn't keep the eagerness from eking into her voice.

“Oh, _Mother Night_ ,” he answered easily.

“The one about the American spy.” She showed him the cover of her book, revealing it to be the very same.

“Who pretends to be a Nazi,” he finished for her.

“ _You are who you pretend to be_...” she quoted.

“... _so be careful who you pretend to be_.”

She couldn't help the smile that played about her lips. “You just made my day,” she said.

“Glad to be of service,” he said with a laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

Emily was chalking up her hands with determined focus when a hand landed on her shoulder. “We need to talk,” Ian demanded, squeezing just a little too hard for comfort.

“What? I...” she stammered, eyes wide with confusion.

“ _Now,_ ” he insisted, louder, more stern.

There were a few snickers from behind her and when she turned to see who it was, she caught sight of Chloe, staring smugly at her, arms crossed over her chest. It might have been childish, but Emily couldn't help glaring right back.

Ian lead her up to his office, slammed the door, and turned to stare at her. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked straight out.

“What!? No! Ian...” she spluttered, stunned.

He gave her a pointed stare. “That's not what I've been told.”

“By _Chloe_?” she accused, balling her hands into fists at her sides. “Ian, come _on_ – she has it out for me  
and you know it! She'd say anything to make trouble for me.”

“Why would Chloe lie about this?”

“Because she's jealous of me! Ever since I got here, she's had it out for me!” she exclaimed. “She's trying to get me kicked off the team!”

“So, there wasn't a boy walking you to your dorm yesterday?” he persisted, tone cold, almost dangerous.

“Well, yes, but...” she conceded.

“You know the rules, Emily,” he scolded. Then, softer, “I thought you were serious about _us_...”

“Ian, I _am_ ,” she insisted desperately, reaching out for his hand, but he snatched it away before she could grasp it. “It wasn't like that, I swear! He really was just walking me to the dorm, then he left.”

His expression remained skeptical.

“He spilled his drink on me, it was just a random accident, and he felt bad about it. That's _it_!” She hated the way emotion flooded her chest, making it hard to breathe, making tears build behind her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this – she wasn't supposed to _care_ this much, not when she had her Olympic dreams riding on not getting distracted.

“Prove it,” Ian said, breaking her out of her trance.

“What?”

“Prove it. Prove you're serious about us,” he repeated.

“How? I...” she stammered. She couldn't help the slight note of panic in her voice, certain this was going nowhere good...

“Marry me.”

“What?” She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She would have laughed but for the dead serious expression on his face telling her he wasn't even remotely kidding. “Ian, I... I'm sixteen – I can't get _married_.” She said the word like it was poison on her tongue.

“When you turn eighteen, then,” he persisted. “We can go back to Ireland and...”

“Ian, I love you, but I... I don't know if I _want_ to get married. Ever.” Marriage was the very last thing on her mind because she was entirely focused on her career and she was _sixteen_...the very notion of it scared the shit out of her, to be entirely honest.

“Emily, I don't know what kind of life we'll have, all I know is that I want you in mine,” he murmured, carefully tucking a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.

“I want that too.” She wrapped her hand around his, offered a smile that was perhaps a little pained. “I'm just not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment.”

He shook his head slowly. “You and Chloe are more alike than you think.”

Emily scowled. “What's that supposed to mean?” she bit out, not liking where this conversation had suddenly headed.

“You're both afraid to commit, to really let yourself want things.” He paused, shook his head. “It's why I had to stop training her – she couldn't give one hundred percent of herself to anyone, not me, not the team, not...”

“What do you mean ' _stop_ training her'?” she repeated, interrupting him, her expression going icy. She hated the tone of jealousy her voice took on, hated how needy she sounded.

“Before they offered me this job, I trained Chloe in Ireland,” he explained. “I thought you knew.”

She blinked hard to keep back tears that threatened to fall. “Did you fuck her too!?” she demanded, sounding rather more upset than she'd intended. “Is that why you're defending her?” She pursed her lips, bit down on her back teeth to hold back her emotions.

“Emily...” he said warningly.

She didn't give him the chance to finish before she turned on her heel and marched out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

She went back to the bars, staring down the apparatus, letting everything else just fade into the background as she prepared to throw herself into her routine to distract herself – from Ian, from marriage, from _Chloe_. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, whispering about her, but in that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

As she landed her routine with a triple back dismount, Ian's hands were there to steady her. “Well done, Love,” he congratulated her.

“Thanks,” she said bitterly, shrugging away from his hands and going for her water bottle.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, following her in spite of her deliberate attempts to brush him off.

“I believe we already _talked_ ,” she said pointedly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“We weren't finished,” he said and it was clear he was trying to maintain his patience with her (which wasn't exactly his strong suit). “Please, just give me ten minutes after practice...”

“We'll see,” she muttered.

...

Emily was stuffing her possessions back in her gym bag like she was punishing it for something. She'd taken a prolonged shower in the hopes that Ian would have given up and left by the time she was finished so she wouldn't have to face whatever he still had left to say, but apparently she had no such luck as she could see him through the window in his office finishing up with some paperwork.

“I'm glad you're still here,” he said, coming down the stairs. It was clear from his expression that he'd been anticipating finding her long gone.

“What do you want, Ian?” she asked, annoyance in her tone.

“I have something for you...” he said softly, offered her a hopeful smile. He opened his hand to reveal a glittering golden chain.

Emily's breath caught in her throat and she reached for the chain with trembling fingers, betraying her best attempts and remaining cold and aloof.

“It's a gimmel ring,” he explained as she fingered the ring hanging from the chain with reverence. “It's an engagement ring of sorts. I know you can't wear the actual ring without attracting attention, but wear the necklace. Prove to me you mean it when you say you're serious about us.”

“Ian...” she started.

He didn't let her finish. “Don't make any decision right now. For now, consider it a good luck charm.”

“I don't need luck,” she countered. “I work my ass off for everything I've achieved.” But she kept the necklace anyway, slipping it into her jacket pocket with a smile that looked like chewing glass.


	8. Chapter 8

Emily fiddled with the ring in her jacket pocket as she sat back in her chair while the make up artist dusted powder across her cheeks. She fought the urge to chew her nails as the cold metal of the chain slid between her fingers, a constant reminder that sooner or later, she was going to have to give Ian an answer and she honestly didn't know what that answer was going to be...

Did she love him? Yes.

Was she ready to get married? Hell no.

Did she want to be with him forever? She had no idea. And therein lay the problem.

“Emily?” her mother's sharp tone interrupted her thoughts. “Emily, are you listening to me? This athletic wear campaign could be just the thing we've been waiting for to really get your face _seen_. If this shoot goes well...”

“I don't know why I let you talk me into this...” she interrupted. It was obvious from her expression she would have rather been anywhere else. Even on a good day when she didn't have a life-altering decision to make, this wouldn't have made the list of top ten things she'd like to be doing.

“ _Because_ ,” Elizabeth scolded, “It's good for your career – you need to get your name out there. As I was saying, athleisure is the big fashion movement right now – it's not just athletes wearing these clothes. You're going to hit demographics you wouldn't normally reach and that's...”

“I don't want to be a catalogue model, Mother. I want to be respected as an athlete, as an activist. I want...”

Her mother interrupted with a flippant wave of her hand. “Nevermind all that,” she dismissed. “You're here to do a job, so _smile_.”

Emily rolled her eyes, opened her mouth to retort, but didn't get the chance.

Elizabeth's face lit up with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder. “Here's your shoot partner for the day,” she told Emily under her breath. “Be _nice_ – he's a very promising and respected athlete. I won't have your sour attitude ruining what could be a very lucrative business relationship.”

“Yes, Mother,” she scoffed, pulling a face in the mirror, making the make up girl giggle quietly.

“Hey! Princess!” a voice exclaimed as her shoot partner rounded the corner with an eager wave and a bright smile.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “ _Really_?”

“I didn't know I'd be shooting with you,” he said, either not hearing or not caring about her flip remark.

“Lucky me.” He offered his fist for a fist bump she reluctantly returned.

“I didn't know you did this kind of thing – doesn't really seem like your 'brand',” she remarked without looking at him as he set down his gym bag and pulled off his shirt.

“I don't usually, but the company emailed me and offered me the gig. Who am I to turn down the money?” He laughed, winked, then became serious. “I can't wait to hand the cheque to my mom to thank her for all she's done for me.”

Emily's frosty exterior melted a little at the sentiment. “That's...really sweet.”

“I'm a regular ol' gummy bear,” he said with a smirk.

She gave a snort of laughter. “Right... You look very squishy and bad for the teeth...”

“Hey, to be fair, I have knocked out a few teeth in my time,” he countered.

...

“Get closer together,” the photographer directed, motioning them together.

“Yeah, Princess,” Derek teased, “Act like you like me.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, making her squeak with surprise. The photographer snapped a shot at that moment. When she failed to make a snappy retort, he frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, a little bit too quickly.

“Because you seem kind of distracted,” he pressed.

“I said I'm fine,” she repeated.

“Boy trouble?” he teased. He spun her around like they were dancing.

“No!” she snapped, too vehement to be entirely innocent.

“Ah...” He smirked. “So, there's a _boy_...”

“Derek...” she said warningly. “Because I like you, I'm going to ask you not to do this.”

“So, you admit you like me!”

She rolled her eyes. “In the sense that I don't want you to get hit by a train, sure.”

He held a hand over his heart, pretending to get emotional. “How romantic.”

“Shut up,” she scoffed, slapping him lightly in the chest, but she couldn't quite help the smile that played about her lips at his antics.

Elizabeth made a scandalized noise. “ _Emily_!” she hissed. “Just once could you please act like a lady!”

The photographer waved off her concern. “This is gold, you two!” he called out, “Keep the energy going!”

Derek took that as his license to sweep her up in his arms, bridal style.

“Derek!” Emily squealed, “What are you doing!?”

He just chuckled as he swung her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “You heard the man: we're supposed to have _fun_. Ever heard of it?”

“You're an ass,” she declared with finality, squirming in his grasp. “Put me down.”

“Never. Tell me about this boyfriend...”

“Derek, I'm serious,” she said, “I'm not talking about this with you.”

“Why?” he pressed, “Is he ugly? Or really old? No, wait, don't tell me – it's not a _boy_ at all...” He waggled his brows suggestively.

“Derek, stop!” she demanded.

The tone in her voice was sharp enough that this time, he actually fell silent, an abashed look crossing his face. “I'm sorry, Em, I was only kidding...”

“Yeah, well, your 'kidding around' could get me in a lot of serious trouble. You know how these kind of rumours spread and I've made it very clear to you that my coach has rules about boys. So, if you don't mind...” She made a pointed motion towards the ground and he silently set her back on her feet. “I think I'd like to do my solo shots now,” she said, directing her words to the photographer.

Without a backward glance at him, she marched off set, leaving him behind, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek was well aware of his reputation around campus as being something of a player. He was also well aware that he'd done nothing to dissuade the rumours. The truth was that, while he did go on his fair share of dates and was never shy about flirting, he truly was searching for someone he could be serious about. Granted, he was only sixteen, so he wasn't necessarily in a hurry to settle down with just one girl quite yet...

Or at least, he hadn't been. Until he'd set eyes on Emily and something about her had struck a chord inside of him that made him want to be with her all the time and hold her hand and all those cheesy things people wrote songs about but he wasn't sure actually existed in the real world.

The problem was that he inevitably put his foot in his mouth whenever she was around. There were only so many times he could apologize for being an insensitive ass before she wouldn't give him another chance.

That didn't mean he was going to stop trying any time soon, though. Which was why he was in a place he never thought he'd be: the girls' gymnastics gym.

Ordinarily, he'd have been elated to find himself the only boy in a room full of leotard-clad teenage girls. Ordinarily, he wasn't crazy about only one girl...

Through the organized chaos of warm-ups, he spotted Emily sprawled out across the mat, stretching out her middle splits with her face pressed against the ground in a way that looked awkward and uncomfortable to him. Then again, he'd never been the most flexible person.

“Emily?” he called out to attract her attention. She either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, so he tried again, louder, “Hey, Emily?”

She pulled herself up off the mat at the sound of her name. He could see the exact moment she placed his voice because her expression became starkly unimpressed. “You again?” She'd kind of hoped that after the debacle that was the photoshoot, he'd gotten the message that she wasn't exactly his biggest fan at the moment.

“Me again,” he said, shrugging in what might've been apology. For what, he wasn't sure. “You left your World History textbook in the dining hall. Thought you might need it – Spencer mentioned you have a test tomorrow. I'm not in the same class, but...” he rambled.

“Thanks,” she said, a little coldly. “You didn't have to bring it here, you could have just left it with the RA.”

“I know,” he admitted, “But it was on my way and I wanted to see you in person and...” He trailed off as one of her teammates flipped past in a series of back handsprings to warm up, his eyes tracking her movement, effectively distracting him.

Emily watched him, scowl deepening as it became more and more obvious what was so distracting. “I see...” she scoffed, snapping his attention back to her. “You didn't come to give me back my book. You came to _ogle_.”

“No, Em, I...” he started to argue, hating that she thought that way about him.

“It's fine,” she insisted, dismissing his excuses with a shake of her head. “Stay. Ogle. I don't care.”

“Em, that's not what...” he tried again, a little more urgently.

She waved him away, signalling that the conversation was over. He huffed, ran a hand over the back of his head in frustration. Of course he'd managed to pick the most stubborn girl he could possibly find... Unfortunately for her, though, he was pretty damn stubborn as well.

He made his way to the bleachers, hoping that perhaps she'd be more receptive to talking after practice. And if not, well, he wasn't going to say no to ogling her just a little.

...

“You know, for someone who supposedly doesn't have a boyfriend, you're certainly spending a lot of time with him,” Ian remarked with faux casualness as he helped stretch her hamstrings.

“Excuse me?” Emily asked, taken aback. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to hide, pinned in place as she was by his hands.

He nodded towards where Derek had made himself at home on the bleachers, looked back to her with a raised brow, but said nothing.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. She didn't have to look to know to whom he was referring. “He's just here to annoy me, I assure you.”

“ _And_ ,” he pressed, “For someone who has a fiance, you aren't wearing your ring...”

She'd hoped he wouldn't ask about that, as she had no more idea what her answer was than she had the night he'd first given her the ring. She gave a high-pitched nervous laugh, determinedly avoiding meeting his eyes. “No jewelry in the gym, coach. That's your rule.” She shrugged like the matter were out of her hands.

“And what about the rest of the time?” He pressed a little harder on her leg, bringing her toes to touch the mat beside her head, stretching her past what was comfortable and she winced, but didn't complain.

“Ian, I can't,” she whispered, a little desperately. “You know how people talk around here... Everyone knows we're not allowed to have boyfriends. If they saw me with a ring, they'd get suspicious, rumours would spread. I don't want to get you in trouble. That's all it is.”

“So, you _do_ want to marry me?” he asked.

She chewed her lip nervously. “After the Games, then we can talk about it.” She offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

His expression was decidedly displeased. “I love you, Em, but I'm not going to wait around for you forever. I want to marry you, that's all there is to it. But if you don't see that in our future...”

“Ian, _please_ ,” she said, more urgently than before. She felt the threat of tears behind her eyes and she was determined not to let them fall, not here, not in front of everyone. “We can't do this... Not here.”

“Fine,” he consented. “Let's see your floor, then. And I want your double-twisting double layout to be _flawless_.”


	10. Chapter 10

“And then Will...” JJ recounted, paused, glanced over at Emily. She trailed off as she realized she wasn't listening to a word she'd said. “Em? Em! You're not even listening!”

“What?” Emily asked, shaking herself back to awareness. She glanced up from her textbook that she'd been staring blankly at for the last twenty minutes, not absorbing a word of it.

JJ laughed a little, mimed hitting Emily with her own textbook. She pushed herself to sit up on her bed where they'd settled to study together. “What is going on with you? You've been a total space cadet for days.”

“It's nothing,” she said, shaking her head, suddenly pretending to be very interested in her studying.

“It's not _nothing_ ,” JJ insisted. “It's not like you to not be laser focused to the point of being really annoying.”

“I'm just thinking,” she said vaguely, still not meeting JJ's eyes.

“ _About_?”

Emily gnawed at a thumbnail nervously. “Have you ever had to make a really big life-changing decision?” she asked, “And you really had no idea which choice was the right one?”

JJ gave her a look of total confusion, like she'd suddenly sprouted a second head. “Could you be more specific?”

She shook her head. “It's a _big_ decision,” she repeated.

“Does this have anything to do with that necklace you keep playing with?” she asked knowingly.

Emily looked up sharply from where she was playing with the chain in her pocket. “What?” she said sharply. “How did you...?”

JJ nodded towards her pocket. “You're not as subtle as you think you are.” She gave her a pointed look. “So, do you want to tell me what this big decision is?”

She curled her legs up underneath her, crouching on the bed like she was ready to run at a moment's notice. She heaved a sigh. “Okay, but you have to swear to me that you won't tell anyone! Literally _no one_!”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” she agreed, rolling her eyes, thinking her overly dramatic.

Emily shut her eyes, took a steadying breath. “I've been having an affair with my coach. And he... He asked me to marry him,” she admitted in a rush of breath.

“What!?” she yelped, punching Emily in the shoulder. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Shhh!” she hissed, rubbing her sore shoulder.

“Sorry,” JJ said without seeming sorry at all, “But I mean...how the hell does that even happen?”

“It didn't 'just happen',” she scoffed. Then, cheeks bright red with embarrassment, added, “We're in love, okay?”

“ _What_!?” JJ shrieked.

“Keep it down, okay?” she whined. “We could get into a lot of trouble for this!”

“All of that aside...” she said pointedly, “Did he seriously ask you to marry him? Or did he just like _suggest_ it for some point in the future?”

Emily pulled the ring out of her pocket, holding out her palm to show JJ. JJ snatched it away to examine it closer.

“Oh. My. God,” she exclaimed. “So, did you say yes?”

“I _told_ you... I have no idea whether or not I even want to get married ever, let alone at sixteen! _Help_ me...” she begged.

“Em, you know I can't,” she murmured apologetically. “You have to make this decision for yourself.”

“You're useless,” Emily muttered petulantly, slamming the cover of her textbook shut and tossing it on the floor.

JJ knew better than to take it personally, simply wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a consolatory hug. “Don't you need your parent's permission to get married at sixteen?” she asked, a thought occurring to her. “Wouldn't your mother have an absolute shit fit if you told her?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning her head on JJ's shoulder. “Don't even get me started... Anyway, he said he...we can wait until I turn eighteen.”

JJ hummed a little noise that sounded a lot like judgement. “A lot of things can change in two years...” she said pointedly.

“Not the way I feel about him,” Emily insisted. “I _love_ him. I just don't know if I want to marry him.”

“The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive,” she pointed out. “You can love someone without being married to them. And vice-versa.”

She sighed heavily and proceeded to ignore what she'd just said. “Do you think you'll feel the same way about Will two years from now?”

She shrugged. “I think so. But Will is my own age and we have things in common and, most importantly, he hasn't asked me to marry him.” She could tell from the way Emily seemed to visibly deflate that that wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. “Are you sure that your feelings for him aren't all mixed up because you spend so much time with him and he pays special attention to you and gives you compliments?”

Emily pursed her lips, not sure she liked where JJ was going with this.

JJ took her silence as license to continue, “I mean, I know your father left when you were really young. Maybe you've conflated love for something else...”

“Are you saying I have daddy issues?” she asked, decidedly unimpressed.

“Maybe a little,” she said with an apologetic grimace. “Em, I'm just trying to help.”

“I _knooooooow_ ,” she moaned, flopping back on JJ's bed, knocking her neatly placed pillows out of place. “What if this is _it_ , though? What if you only get one chance at love and marriage and all that crap and if you blow it, it's over for you? What if _this_ is my one shot?”

“Em, I love you, but that is the stupidest thing you've ever said,” JJ scoffed.

Emily swatted her in the face with one of the pillows. “Jayje!” she whined. “I'm being serious!”

“So am I!” she retorted. “I don't believe for a single second that some guy like twenty years older than you who, by the way, already has grey hair, is your one and only chance at being happy. I think you're going to find someone your own age who loves you and you love enough that being married doesn't seem terrifying.”

“Like who? Derek Morgan?” she mocked.

“ _Maybe_.”

Emily groaned dramatically and smacked her with the pillow again. “Don't even get me started on Derek Morgan...”


	11. Chapter 11

“No, Mother! Absolutely not! I'm not doing it!”

“Emily, this is _not_ up for debate. You're doing the commercial and that's final.”

Emily groaned, head lolling back dramatically. “I'm not taking time away from my training to shoot a stupid commercial,” she insisted, pacing her dorm with the phone to her ear.

“You must,” Elizabeth replied. “Derek Morgan has already signed on.”

The ad campaign they'd shot had gone massively viral – people on social media raved about how cute the two of them looked together – and sales had spiked correspondingly. Now, the company wanted them to do a commercial together. For their new swimwear line. In Hawaii. Elizabeth, of course, was over the moon about it...Emily, decidedly less so.

“That's not exactly a selling point,” she muttered, more to herself than her mother. She'd successfully managed to avoid having any contact with him since the shoot (even if JJ insisted she was stubborn and overreacting...).

“Emily, I'm getting very tired of your poor attitude,” her mother said, speaking to her as if she were a particularly tired and insolent toddler. “This is your big break and if you don't take full advantage of it, you'll lose out on millions of dollars in endorsement deals and any chance of future project offers.”

“'Future projects'?” she repeated skeptically.

“Of course, Dear. I'm not about to let you peak at sixteen. We're talking acting roles, talk show appearances...Shawn Johnson published a young adult novel after her Olympic career,” Elizabeth listed.

“I don't _want_ that!”

“And what, pray tell, is your plan, Emily?” Elizabeth asked snidely. “After these Games, you have a miniscule chance at the next ones... Then what?”

“None of your business, Mother! It's _my_ life, not yours! And if I want to go to college or be a coach or-or _whatever_ , it doesn't matter!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“College?” Elizabeth repeated like the very idea was laughable. “Oh, Emily, why do something so pedestrian? Why throw away these _gifts_ you've been given?”

“I'm done arguing about this, Mother,” Emily said firmly.

...

Emily glared down at the screen of her phone as she waited for everyone flying coach to board the plane, determinedly ignoring Derek in the seat next to her, staring out the plane window like a kid in a candy store.

**“Kill me pls,”** she texted JJ.

**“Bitch whats wrong with u ur going to HAWAII,”** JJ replied.

**“But I can't train for TWO DAYS!!!”** Emily texted back unironically.

JJ sent back a mocking Spongebob meme. Emily sent her several middle finger emoji.

Ignoring her immature response, JJ texted, **“So is ur luver gonna be there???”**

**“Derek is NOT my LOVER,”** Emily replied.

**“HA I meant ur coach but its funny that ur brain went right to Derek...”**

Emily was in the middle of typing a response laden with profanity when Derek peered over her shoulder. “Who are you texting?” he inquired.

“No one,” she responded curtly, still typing.

“Is it this mystery boyfriend of yours?”

She groaned dramatically, turning to look at him pointedly. “You never learn, do you?” she asked.

He shrank back a little in the face of her irritation. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn't trying to embarrass you or pry or anything...it's just how I joke around with friends.”

“Oh, we're friends now, are we?” she asked, not entirely certain whether she was teasing him or not.

“Absolutely,” he replied immediately.

“And there's no way for me to get out of this?”

“Nope.” He grinned proudly, punched her in the shoulder amiably. “Aren't you lucky?”

...

“Do you _ever_ shut up?”

“What?” Derek asked, looking away from the window to give her a quizzical look.

“You have not stopped talking for a single second since you got on the damn plane,” Emily pointed out, making a point of shutting her book and stowing it in the seat pocket after she'd spent the last hour trying unsuccessfully to read. “It's _really_ annoying.”

He laughed a little. “Sorry... I'm just excited. I've never been on a plane before.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “Never? Not even in coach?”

He shrugged. “Mama could never afford to take us anywhere,” he admitted. “Being at the Training Centre in Colorado is the first time I've ever been outside of Illinois.”

“Wow...” she said softly. “I guess you must think I'm some kind of spoiled brat with my first class life, training all around the world and shit.”

“Nah.” He paused, smirked, elbowed her gently in the ribs. “Well, maybe just a little, but because I like you so much, I'll forgive you.”

“Gee, how magnanimous of you,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

He grinned widely. “So, Miss Fancy Pants, are you excited for the commercial?”

“No,” she scoffed.

“No?” he repeated. “We're getting paid to frolic on a Hawaiian beach for two days – what's not to be excited about?”

“For one thing, it's going to be annoying and repetitive and exhausting work,” she pointed out. “For another, do you know how much flexibility and stamina I'll lose in two days away from the gym?”

“I know how you could work on your flexibility and stamina...” he said, waggling his brows suggestively.

She gave him a pointed look.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I can't help myself sometimes. I know you have a boyfriend.”

“Technically, I never said that, you just assumed it,” she informed him, not bothering to correct him that while she did, in fact, have a significant other, technically, he was her _fiance_.

“Well, duh,” he said. “Of course you have a boyfriend – you're smart, funny, and gorgeous. Or girlfriend,” he corrected himself. “No judgement. But seriously, if I didn't think you were already taken, I'd have been all over you.”

She raised a brow. “So, this _isn't_ you flirting with me?”

“This is just the Derek Morgan experience, baby,” he said with a laugh. “Mama always said I could charm the skin off a snake.”

She shook her head slowly, but she did so with a smile. “Derek Morgan, you are one of a kind.”


	12. Chapter 12

Derek came out of the en-suite bathroom still dripping from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. “I've got sand so far up my...”

“ _Please_ don't finish that sentence,” Emily begged him. She glanced in his direction, one brow arcing up her forehead. “And please put some pants on before you accidentally flash me.”

“Technically, I'm more covered up than I've been all day,” he pointed out. (He hadn't exactly been shy about it either...)

“Don't remind me,” she said teasingly.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pouting and clapping a hand over his heart as if she'd wounded him.

She just rolled her eyes and resumed her stretching.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a frown as he emerged from the bathroom a second time, this time wearing a pair of shorts.

“Stretching my oversplits,” she said as if it should be obvious. She stacked another pillow under her foot, lifting it further up off the ground. “I told you – my flexibility is going to go to hell if I don't stretch everyday.”

“That just looks painful,” he declared firmly, settling beside her on the floor.

“What's painful is having to share a room with you and having to listen to you sing in the shower...” she retorted, the look she shot him full of sass. (Thankfully, the hotel room had two beds...even if they had been booked in separate rooms only to find out when they arrived they'd only have one.)

“You're mean,” he whined, tossing a nearby pillow at her head.

“I mean, you're great and all, but thank God you're an athlete and not a singer because you are _bad_ ,” she continued. “Hey, could you check my ears? I think there might be blood coming out of them...”

“Oh, that's it!” he declared and launched himself at her, tackling her to the ground and tickling her sides.

“Derek!” she squealed, falling out of her splits in an awkward and ungainly way.

“Take it back,” he said, “Take it back and I'll stop!”

“Never!” she insisted, shrieking with laughter.

He managed to get her pinned beneath him, straddling her hips and pressing her wrists to the floor. “Say it,” he demanded. “Say I'm the best singer you've ever heard. Say I'm the second coming of Frank Sinatra.”

“In your dreams,” she retorted, still squirming against his grip.

Then – and neither of them could have said exactly how it happened – his lips were on hers, kissing her like his life depended on it.

For a few moments, she returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck once he'd released his grip on her wrists. Her nails scraped for purchase at the back of his head as his tongue swept along her bottom lip in silent plea for permission that she readily gave...

But only briefly before she realized what was happening. Then, she was pushing him off of her, crawling backwards across the room until her back hit the wall.

“What the fuck, Derek!” she shouted, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Emily, I'm so sorry, I...” he started apologizing. He took a few tentative steps towards her, but her frosty glare stopped him in his tracks.

“What the hell! How could you kiss me like that!?” she demanded. Angry tears filled her eyes faster than she could blink them away and she furiously wiped them away with the heel of her hand.

For a few moments, he gave her a skeptical look. “Not to be too technical, but you did kiss me back,” he pointed out. He paced back and forth nervously, being sure to keep his distance from her.

“You know I have a boyfriend! How could you?”

“You kissed me back,” he repeated.

“You _knew_!” she hissed. “You fucking knew and you-you took advantage of me!”

He sighed heavily, trying hard to keep his calm in the face of her anger. “And I'm sorry for that, but you can't just blame me for this. I don't care what story you tell your boyfriend, but right here, right now, you have to acknowledge that I am _not_ the only one at fault here.”

“Fine!” she yelled, “I kissed you back, okay? I kissed you back and it was a good kiss and if I didn't already have a boyfriend, I probably wouldn't have stopped! Is that what you wanted to hear!?”

There was a prolonged pregnant pause in which they stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise at her admission.

Before he could say anything, though, she pushed herself to stand, grabbed her phone and a room key off the dresser, then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I can't deal with this right now,” she declared. “I'm going for a walk.” He didn't have the chance to stop her, the door slamming shut behind her.

...

“Ian?” Her voice trembled, she didn't even bother trying to hide the desperation in her tone. “Ian, pick up the phone. Please!” She paused, waited, her grip on the phone shaky. “Ian, I know it's late, but I really need to hear your voice right now. Please pick up...”

She flopped down on the sand, resting her head in her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the onslaught of tears.

She let out a shaky sigh. “I just... I really miss you. I love you. Call me back. Please.”

Hanging up, she dropped her phone beside her, not caring if it got wet. It wasn't like it mattered anyway. Not like anything mattered. She was doing a really good job of ruining everything else in her life...

“There you are...” a voice called over the crunch of sand that signalled someone jogging up beside her.

“Please... Derek, I just... I can't deal with whatever this is right now,” she begged without looking up, not sure she could face him after her outburst.

Quietly, he settled down next to her. “I just wanted to make sure you're alright.”

“Not even a little.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm an ass, okay? Can we forget it ever happened?”


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you mind?” Derek asked pointedly, upon walking into his dorm to find his roommate making out with his girlfriend. He slammed the door behind him, startling the pair out of their kissing.

“Sorry, man,” Matt said, but he wore a shit-eating grin, betraying the sincerity of his apology. “Next time I'll hang a tie on the door knob...”

Kristy lightly swatted his shoulder. “ _Matt_ ,” she hissed, scandalized, making him laugh. “Sorry, Derek,” she apologized, more earnestly.

“He's just jealous because his girlfriend's mad at him...” Matt teased.

“One: she's not my girlfriend,” Derek pointed out, dropping his gym bag on the floor with a thud. “Two: I'm not jealous. I just don't need to see my roommate dry-humping his girlfriend.”

“Hey!” Kristy yelped, this time at Derek. “We weren't _dry-humping_!” But her complaints were again drowned out by Matt's laughter.

“And _three_ :” Derek persisted, “She's not just mad – she's fucking _pissed_. She'll probably never even speak to me again.” He dropped heavily onto his bed looking entirely pitiable.

Kristy cocked her head, brow creased in sympathy over his obvious heartbreak. “What happened?” she asked.

“Yeah, man,” Matt piped up, “What'd you do?”

Derek shot him a glare, but told the story anyway. “We were filming the commercial in Hawaii and everything was great, except that the hotel had overbooked and we were sharing a room...”

Matt interrupted by making a lewd gesture, causing Kristy to shove him off the bed.

“It was fine. But then she was teasing me and I started tickling her and one thing lead to another...and suddenly we were kissing.” He shrugged awkwardly. Outside the heat of the moment, it sounded less like a natural progression of events and more than a little predatory.

“And she has a boyfriend?” Kristy asked, having been privy to him waxing poetic about Emily before (without him actually mentioning her name).

He nodded silently, wincing a little in anticipation of her judgement. When the silence dragged on for too long, he added, “But she kissed me back...”

“Does she know you like her?” Kristy asked.

“I assume so – it's not like I've exactly been secretive about it,” he said. “I've never liked anyone like this – like this all-consuming, can't stop thinking about it, want to be around her all the time crush.”

“Dude...” Matt lamented, shaking his head sombrely.

“That sounds like more than a crush,” Kristy said gently, “It sounds like you love her.”

Derek heaved a sigh, ran a hand over his head. “Well, she doesn't love me, so whatever these feelings are, I need them to _stop_.”

Kristy and Matt shared a look then, a thoughtful expression crossing Kristy's face. “What do you think?” she asked.

“You think she'd go for it?” Matt replied, brow arching.

“She has asked about him,” she said with a shrug. A smirk crossed her face. “You wanna?”

Matt mirrored her grin. “Derek, it's your lucky day – we're going to help you forget about this girl.”

“I don't want to forget her,” Derek countered. “I still want to be her friend – I mean, if she will ever even look at me again.”

“I think the best way to show her you can be friends is to move on,” Kristy gently encouraged. “Go on a date with someone else.”

“What...” he stammered. “But...”

“There's a girl on the field hockey team with Kristy – she's asked about you,” Matt said.

“I don't know that I'm ready to...” he started.

“Just go out for coffee, meet with her, get to know her,” Kristy insisted. “You've got to get your mind off this girl and onto someone else before friendship is on the table.”

Derek chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted. It was clear from his tone, though, that he wasn't entirely convinced.

...

The door to Ian's office was open, but Emily knocked anyway, feeling timid and unsure of herself ever since the fateful kiss that had ruined everything.

On the plane ride home (during which Derek had been uncharacteristically silent), she'd arrived at the decision not to tell Ian what had happened between them. All she wanted to do was forget it had ever happened and she knew Ian well enough to know that he'd likely never let it go, turning it into a much bigger deal than it actually was.

Ian glanced up from his paperwork and, if he was surprised to see her there, he hid it well. “So, you're back, then?”

She frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?” she asked, referring more to his frosty tone than the words themselves.

“Nothing,” he said dryly. “It's just nice that you've decided to take time away from your whirlwind media tour to actually _train_...”

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “You know as well as I do that if I'd had any choice at all in the matter, I wouldn't be caught dead in a _bikini commercial_.”

He shook his head. “I'd just hate to see my most promising gymnast miss her chance to make the Olympic team because she was too busy taking pretty pictures to put in the time at the gym...”

“I missed two days, it's not the end of the world! But in the gym today, you didn't even _look_ at me – you passed me off to the assistant coach like I wasn't even worth your time!”

“Emily, you're not the only girl here,” he said, rather snidely. “The world doesn't revolve around you.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Emily snapped. “Is this really just about the commercial?”

“Maybe it's because I have to compete with this meathead rugby player for your attention lately,” Ian countered pointedly.

“Are you really this insecure?” she asked, sighing in exasperation. “You're my _fiance_ , you've got nothing to be jealous about!”

“Might I remind you that you never truly gave me an answer...”

“I _told_ you...” she started, stopped, shook her head. “You know what, I'm not getting into this argument again. But, since we're on the subject of not answering...why didn't you pick up when I called you?”

He cocked his head to the side, fixing her with an almost patronizing look. “Emily, I was working. You have no idea all the paperwork that's required by the Admissions Committee before they arrive to evaluate you.”

She pursed her lips, decidedly unhappy with his response. “You could have at least called me back when you saw I'd called.”

“I didn't want to ruin your lovely vacation with a reminder that you have responsibilities back home – like a career and a fiance...”

She threw her hands up in the air in aggravation. “Whatever. I'm done indulging this jealous fantasy world you've built in your head. I'll talk to you when you've seen reason and can have a mature reasonable conversation.” She slammed the door behind her, leaving before anger made her say something she couldn't take back.


	14. Chapter 14

“I had a really nice time today,” Derek remarked, perhaps a little awkwardly. He'd never done _this_ before: the end of a date where he actually wanted a second one...

“You sound surprised,” Savannah said, only half teasing. They'd arrived at her dorm room, but he was still holding onto her hand and she was loathe to let it go either.

He laughed a little nervously, shrugged. “It's been awhile since I've been on a real date,” he admitted, then amended, “I mean, with someone I really liked.”

“Really?” she asked, brow raised. “The rumour around campus is that you're kind of a man slut.”

His laugh was fuller, freer this time. “Hey, give me a little credit – that's all just for show.” He paused, added, “Mostly.”

Savannah's grin in return was cheeky. “Regardless...I'm glad you agreed to let Matt and Kristy set us up. Not to sound like a stalker, but I've been bugging Kristy to give you my number for awhile.”

“I'm flattered. Stalker,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, man slut.”

He laughed. He paused to look in her eyes, feeling kind of embarrassed by his sudden lack of smoothness. He cleared his throat. “I don't suppose you're free for dinner on Thursday?” he asked hopefully.

“You certainly don't waste any time, do you?”

“Not when I've somehow managed to land a catch like you.” He winked playfully, but was entirely serious. “We'll go somewhere off campus – somewhere nice...somewhere _healthy_ , so Coach doesn't yell at me.”

“Well, in that case, I'd love to get dinner,” she agreed. “Say seven? So I have time to shower after practice.”

“Can't wait.” With that, he squeezed the hand he still had clutched in his own, then leaned in to kiss her cheek, making her blush. “Much as I hate to go, I've got a mountain of homework,” he lamented. “But I'll text you later.”

“You'd better,” she said with wave, watching from the doorway as he trotted off.

...

On the way back to his dorm, Derek was practically floating on air. He hadn't felt this good, this free in so long. Longer than he could remember. If the campus weren't swarming with people out for evening runs, he would have kicked up his heels.

“What are you so happy about?” a teasing voice asked, startling him out of his trance.

“Oh, umm, hey JJ,” he stammered, offering an awkward smile as she skidded to a stop in front of him, jogging in place. “What's up?”

“Nothing much,” she said with a sly grin. “Seriously, you look like the Cheshire Cat... What's going on?”

For a few moments, he debated whether to tell her, knowing she'd inevitably tell Emily. Then, he realized that was the first time he'd thought of her all day – he wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information.

“I, umm, I had a date,” he admitted with a shrug.

“A _date_?” JJ repeated, surprised. “Like a real date? With who?”

“A girl on the field hockey team,” he said vaguely.

When he didn't seem about to offer up further detail, she smiled encouragingly. “That's good.”

“What?” he asked, confused but how easily and enthused the encouragement had fallen off her tongue.

“I'm glad,” she said, “You're moving on.”

“Moving on?” he repeated dumbly.

She nodded. “It's great that you're getting your mind off Emily. She's happy and she wants you to be happy too.”

He opened his mouth, closed it a few times, unsure what to say.

“Anyway, I've got to get going – my heart rate is dropping.” She waved and jogged off.

For a few moments, he stood there, stunned and confused, watching her retreating back, blonde ponytail swinging. He wasn't sure what to make of her words.

If Emily was so happy, he wondered, why had she kissed him back? Then: why did he care? She'd made it very clear she wasn't interested, so he was moving on. Just like JJ had said.

Why, then, did the words cut him like a knife?

...

When he made it back to his dorm, he found Spencer sitting outside the door. “Hey, kid, what are you doing here?” he asked, startling him out of his reading.

Closing the thick tome in his lap and pushing his glasses further up his nose, he replied, “Waiting for you.”

“Well, obviously. I meant, why aren't you waiting inside? Matt would have let you in,” Derek elaborated.

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I didn't want to be a bother.”

“So, you decided to bother me instead?” he teased, offering a hand to help him up. Spencer's expression seemed so pathetically downtrodden at the teasing, that Derek, shook his head, smiling. “I'm only joking, kid. What's up?”

His cheeks pinked and he suddenly couldn't meet Derek's eye, focusing determinedly on the shiny linoleum floor, scuffing the toe of his sneaker along the ground. “I, umm... I need your advice.”

Derek raised a brow. “You need _my_ advice? But you know basically everything there is to know!” he said incredulously.

“It'saboutagirl,” he said in a rush of breath, words jumbling together.

“What was that?”

“It's about a _girl_ ,” he repeated, slower, but still in a whisper.

Derek's face split in a wide grin. “A girl?” He clapped Spencer on the shoulder. “My man...”

“I mean, you obviously know a lot about girls and dating and everything and I really like this girl, but I don't know how to talk to her and I really want her to like me back, but every time I try to say something to her, I get all tongue-tied and just stare at her like an idiot,” he lamented. “Help me!”

“You've come to the right place,” Derek said with a laugh. “So, what's this girl's name?”

“Maeve,” Spencer replied, getting a dreamy look on his face. “She's a diver and she's so pretty and smart! She's already been accepted to like three colleges and...”

“Whoa, slow down there, Lover Boy,” Derek teased. “Let's start with a conversation before you move on to planning your wedding. What makes you feel confident?”

“Statistics,” he answered instantly.

“No,” Derek replied just as immediately. “Just trust me, no. Something else.”

“Magic?” Spencer offered, this time more hesitantly.

“There you go,” he said eagerly. “Chicks dig magic. Next time you cross paths with her, wow her with a magic trick.”

Spencer's eyes went wide, stricken. “Just go up to her and _talk_ to her? Just like that?”

“Trust me,” Derek said, affixing him with a stern stare. “If there's one thing I know, it's women...”


	15. Chapter 15

“I'm sick and tired of hearing about Derek and Savannah,” Emily griped to JJ as she plunged into the ice bath in the physio room.

JJ laughed. “Yeah, they are sickeningly cute, aren't they?”

“You got the sick part right,” Emily muttered. “They were making out in the library today. Like, show a little discretion...”

“When did you turn eighty years old?” JJ teased. “They're young and in love, give them a break.”

“They're not in love,” she scoffed. “They're horny kids.”

“You're literally the same age...”

Emily huffed a breath out through her nose. “Yes, well, I'm not sticking my tongue down my boyfriend's throat all over campus.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “Get off your high horse, Emily. Otherwise I'll start to think you're jealous.”

“I'm not jealous!” she hissed. “I don't care whose throat his tongue is down, so long as it's not mine. I just don't want to have to see it!”

“Okay, Em, chill,” JJ said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I was only kidding.”

“Could you maybe _not_ joke about me and another guy when I've got a...” She paused, looked about to make sure no one was eavesdropping before she finished, “A _fiance_? You know how rumours spread around here.”

“You know,” she said pointedly, “If this guy loves you so much, shouldn't he _trust_ you? You always talk about how jealous he gets, but if Will was ever that controlling with me, I'd dump his ass so fast...”

Emily struggled to resist rolling her eyes. “Yeah, but this is a _real_ relationship. You don't just turn and run the first time things get hard; you have to work at it.”

A scowl crossed JJ's face. “What do you mean a _'real'_ relationship?”

She sighed, shook her head. “The whole high school sweethearts thing. It's a nice fantasy, but it's not real. It doesn't last.”

“I didn't realize you were such an expert...”

Emily shrugged, offered a look of slight apology, but without any kind of genuine shame behind it.

“You want to talk about fantasy?” JJ snapped. “You think _your_ relationship is so special and different? You can't even commit to being engaged because you _know_ there's something so incredibly fucked up about this guy wanting to marry a sixteen year old. But you don't want to admit that to yourself because that would mean you're alone and you're so fucking terrified of not being wanted. And I get it, your childhood was messed up and it's sad that you're so desperate for love that you'll tolerate just about anything. But I'm not just going to sit here and let you be a bitch to me because of some kind of superiority complex when I've been by your side one hundred percent this whole damn time!”

And with that, she stood from her ice bath, cold water dripping from her now see-through T-shirt. She refused to make eye contact with Emily as she sloshed water over the side of the tub, climbing out and reaching for a towel.

“JJ...” Emily started, feeling sufficiently chastised.

“Don't bother,” JJ interrupted. “Talk to me when you've decided not to be a judgemental bitch.”

...

“Seriously, who does she think she is?” JJ demanded of the room at large. She didn't actually expect an answer, but she needed to say it anyway.

“Maybe she was just...” Will started to say, stopping abruptly upon seeing the scathing look currently being sent his way. “Sorry,” he said meekly.

“Seriously, you should have heard her,” she continued on as if he hadn't spoken, “Going on like she knows all there is to know about relationships, even though hers is...” She stopped just short of saying what she truly thought, shook her head. “She had no right to say any of it!”

“Why are you so bent out of shape over her opinion?” Will dared to ask.

She heaved a pointed sigh, rolled her eyes. “ _Because_ she's my best friend. She's not supposed to say stupid bullshit like that about you.”

He patted the bed beside him, indicating she should sit, but she was far too frazzled to stop pacing. “Do you actually care if she likes me?” he asked.

“I care because if I can act like I actually like her shitty choices in men, she should at least do a better job of pretending for my sake.”

“You sound like you you really hate this guy she's with...” he pointed out.

“Ugh,” JJ scoffed. “Hate isn't a strong enough word. He's just...he's all wrong for her and she just doesn't see it.” She finally stopped pacing, dropping unceremoniously onto the bed. “And the sad part is that there's a really awesome guy who's actually into her and she refuses to see how great they'd be together.”

Will just smiled fondly down at her in silence.

“What?” she asked, elbowing him in the ribs.

He laughed, slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side so he could kiss her temple.

She was in the process of pulling him in for a deeper kiss when there was a knock at the door. JJ sighed in irritation at the interruption as she answered the door.

“Who is it, Cher?”

She kicked the door shut, hands full of a vase of flowers. “Special delivery,” she replied, setting them down on the nearby desk and searching for the card.

“You got a secret admirer I should know about?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. “They're not for me, they're for Emily. Her fiance is in the dog house...”

What followed was a silence that felt centuries long before Will broke it with an exclaimed, “ _What_?”

JJ's eyes went wide. “Oh, _shit_!”

“Emily has a fiance? Like a ring and a proposal and everything _fiance_?” he pressed.

“Sort of... But, Will, it's a big secret! I'm the only one that knows, so you can't say anything to anyone or she'll know I told!” she pleaded.

“But Jayje...”

“Promise me!” she demanded.

“Okay, I promise,” he conceded, but he did so reluctantly.


	16. Chapter 16

“Did you get the flowers I sent?” Ian asked, approaching Emily with the excuse of helping her set up the spring board for her vaults.

“Yes,” she replied, colder than expected, “I did.”

“And?” he pressed.

“And _what_?”

“Don't you have something to say?” he said pointedly. “A thank you, perhaps?”

“Oh, right. Thanks,” she deadpanned. If she weren't so proud, she would've confessed to him that when she'd read the card in the bouquet, a brilliant smile had grown across her face. He might not have seemed the type, but Ian could be exceedingly sweet and tender when he wanted to be...and the flowers had reminded her of just how deeply he loved her.

“Well, now, try to hold back some of your enthusiasm,” he remarked, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?”

He sighed heavily. “Emily, I don't know how to deal with you anymore. It seems like everything I do is wrong...”

“Ian, I'm just asking for a bit of consistency... You don't want me to show you affection in the gym, but you get jealous of every boy that so much as looks at me – when, might I remind you, you're surrounded by girls all day long. You ask me to marry you, but then you make a big jealous scene over a stupid commercial I filmed with some jerk from school, then the next week, you send me flowers. So, excuse me if I don't know how to deal with you either.”

For a moment, he just started at her, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, and she started to worry that his infamous temper was going to flare out at her in front of everyone. Then, voice uncharacteristically small, he said, “You're right.”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “What?” she finally managed to stammer. She'd never heard him admit he was wrong before...

“You're right,” he repeated. “I've been behaving childishly. If you tell me there's nothing going on with this boy, then I should trust you.”

She pursed her lips to keep herself from rubbing in the fact that that was exactly what she'd been saying all along...but he was admitting fault and she didn't want to discourage that.

He continued on, “It's just that sometimes I have a hard time believing that you want me, when you're surrounded by boys like _him_ – young, handsome athletes who aren't, well...” He gestured vaguely at himself as he trailed off.

If they hadn't been surrounded by people who could never know about their relationship, she would have wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him to reassure him that there was no one else she wanted. As it was, though, she simply smiled up at him and whispered, “There's no one else.”

He smiled back at her for the briefest of moments, then cleared his throat. “I want to see that extra practice paying off today.”

Ian had been working with her in the evenings after the gym was empty to try to improve her vault score. They'd been practicing the Amanar Vault – she could make it through the round-off onto the springboard, the back handspring onto the table just fine...it was the following two and a half twists that she couldn't quite hit. Namely, the last half a twist.

Emily groaned, but nodded.

“Let's get moving, Ladies!” Ian called out to the crowd of gymnasts moving through their warm-ups. “I want to see medal-worthy performances today!”

Moving off to the side to watch the other gymnasts practice their vaults, Emily tried to resist the urge to chew her nails. Vault was her least favourite event – it had never been her strongest event and it frustrated her to no end that she couldn't quite master it no matter how hard she tried.

She stretched out her shoulders, rolled out her neck, keeping warm and limber while she waited. She wasn't looking forward to practicing in front of everyone, least of all Chloe who _excelled_ at vault and who would never _ever_ let her live it down if she couldn't land a solid six point vault today.

Ahead of her in line, Chloe bounced in place a few times, then sprinted down the runway towards the springboard, launching into a round-off, then a half turn onto the table, and into a Rudi. It was a notoriously difficult vault with very few gymnasts even attempting it, let alone doing it well.

Silently, Emily wished she'd bobble her landing, but of course, she stuck it perfectly. Cheers rang out from the waiting gymnasts. And, to Emily's great displeasure, Ian clapped.

As Chloe stood there panting, grinning at the accolades, Ian approached, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well done, Chloe,” he murmured to her, just loud enough that Emily could hear. Then, raising his voice to be heard across the gym, “See, Ladies, _this_ is how you train when you want to make the Olympic team. Chloe worked her ass off and she just landed a flawless Cheng Vault. I want to see the rest of you working this hard and then, _maybe_ we've got a shot at Gold this year.”

As Ian turned back to Chloe, leaning down to murmur something in her ear, Emily sank her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to stifle a growl. Who the _fuck_ did Chloe think she was? And how _dare_ Ian kiss her ass just because she landed a vault a tenth of a point higher than the one she was working on?

And how dare he give her shit for spending time with Derek when his hand was on the small of Chloe's back, dangerously close to her ass...

Quietly seething, it took her a moment before she realized everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to take her turn at the vault. Chloe stood there, hands planted on her lips, grin entirely too smug, like she was already expecting Emily to fail, ready to rub it in her face when she did. And Ian...well, he wasn't even looking at her.

With a slow measured breath, she shook out her limbs and made a split second decision before taking off sprinting. With a forward handspring, she landed on the table, into a forward tucked double salto.

For the briefest of moments, she thought she was going to land it. Then, she came crashing to the floor, landing on her neck with a sickening crunch of bone.


	17. Chapter 17

Derek was finding it extremely difficult to focus on his studying. It seemed like everyone in the library was whispering at once which meant that there must be some particularly juicy gossip going around. He wasn't normally the type to partake in gossip, but he couldn't help trying to eavesdrop just a little...if for no other reason than the colourful girl who worked in the nearby coffee shop who happened to run a blog about all the campus gossip would want to know.

Before he could quite make out any of the whispered words coming from the table next to his, Savannah came rushing up, looking like she was ready to burst with exciting news. After a quick kiss, she exclaimed, “OMG, did you hear!?”

“Hear what?” he asked. “I've been holed up here all morning trying to study.”

“Okay, so I don't have all the details because I heard it second-hand,” she prefaced, “But apparently one of the gymnasts was practicing vault and she fell and totally broke her neck!”

“Wh-what?” he stammered, feeling like all his blood had turned to ice. (He tried not to analyze why even the idea of Emily getting hurt made his heart stop beating.)

“Yeah! There were a bunch of ambulances and everything!” She sounded almost gleeful at the prospect. He hoped it was just because she wanted to be a doctor after finishing high school...

“Who?” he managed to choke out around the lump of fear in his throat.

“Hmm?”

“Do you know who was hurt?” he pressed.

She shrugged and opened her mouth as if to continue speaking, but she didn't get the chance.

He immediately began packing up his books, jamming them into his backpack. “I've gotta go.”

Savannah frowned, displeased. “Where are you going?” The only response she received was a quick dismissive wave as he nearly sprinted from the library.

He ran all the way across campus to the girls' dormitory, earning confused and concerned stares from the people he passed – while it was normal for people to run across campus, it was a little suspicious to see someone full-out sprinting in jeans.

When he arrived at Emily and JJ's room, he pounded furiously on the door. “JJ?” he shouted. “JJ! Let me in!”

A door across the hall opened, a brunette head poking out looking less than thrilled by the raucous he was creating. “Do you _mind_?”

“Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “But it's an emergency... Do you know if they're home?”

She shook her head. “JJ went to the hospital to be with Emily.”

For a moment, Derek wracked his brain for the girl's name. “Beth, right? Do you know what happened?”

Beth shrugged. “All I know is that Emily's in the hospital. It's bad...” She shook her head sadly. “I hope she's not out of the running for the Olympic team...”

Derek chewed his lip in thought. “I know we don't know each other, but...do you know anyone with a car?”

“My boyfriend,” she offered. “He's a junior lawyer for the Training Centre.”

“Beth, I _really_ need to get to the hospital, is there _any_ way I could hitch a ride with your boyfriend?” he begged.

Beth ducked back inside her room, grabbed her purse and a sweater, then reemerged. “Let's go.”

...

As the sedation started to wear off, Emily groaned – groggy and in pain. She opened first one eye, then the other and, limited in movement as she was, scanned the room to find the only person waiting there was Derek...

“Oh, God, I'm dead,” she bemoaned. “I'm dead and I've gone to hell...”

“Ha ha,” Derek said humorlessly, but the shake of his head was fond. “At least you didn't break your sense of humour.” He sobered up, then. “How do you feel?”

“The jury's still out on that one,” she replied. “I'll let you know when the morphine wears off.” In the silence that followed, he attempted to reach for her hand, but she pulled it just out of his reach at the last moment. “No offence, but why are you here?” she asked.

He tried not to let the sting of her words show on his face. “I rushed over here as soon as I heard. And I know that you probably don't want to see me – I totally get that – but I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright.” He offered an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry mine was the first face you saw...but JJ had to be at soccer practice and I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up.”

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment. “I've been a total bitch to you and you still wanted to be here?”

“That's what friends are for,” he replied easily. “I mean, obviously you don't have a lot of experience in the matter, but friends don't let friends come down off morphine alone,” he teased.

Deciding to ignore his teasing, she reached up to tentatively feel the brace wrapped around her neck. “Do you know what happened?” she asked, “The whole morning is a blur right now...”

“Morphine will do that,” he joked. “That and a concussion – and trust me, I've had plenty of those.” She didn't look all that impressed with his sense of humour. “All I know is what the rumour mill is grinding out,” he admitted.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I absolutely _cannot_ handle whatever twisted story the campus-wide game of Telephone has come up with this time.”

“At least the 'you are a vampire' rumour seems to be dying down,” he offered in consolation.

“What?” she said and it was almost a laugh.

“Since the commercial,” he explained. “You didn't burst into flames in the sun...” He paused, thought on the matter. “I'm not convinced, though. I saw the literal _bottles_ of sunscreen make-up had to apply.”

“You're such a jerk,” she said, but this time she was actually laughing. “Don't make me get up and kick your ass.” The realization seemed to wash over her then that that may not ever happen again, her fingers coming back up to touch the cervical collar.

Frantically, he searched for something to distract her from her melancholy. “Besides...” he said, “If anyone on campus is a vampire, it's that lawyer guy your neighbour is dating.”


	18. Chapter 18

Ian waited until the others returned to campus for curfew before visiting Emily, just to be safe. Settling into the chair beside her bed, he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “What were you thinking, Em?” he murmured, “A Produnova Vault?” He shook his head. “You weren't ready for something that difficult. Why did you do it?”

“You didn't see the way she was looking at me,” Emily insisted, “Like she was gloating, waiting for me to fail. I had to show her she was wrong...”

“You risked everything because of Chloe Donaghy?” he asked incredulously. “Emily, that's...”

“I did it because of _you_!” she interrupted.

For a moment, he just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?”

“You were all over her,” she scoffed. “I mean, I know you've got a history, but _God_...”

“Emily, you're being ridiculous!”

“I broke my fucking _neck_ , Ian!” she shouted. “I think I'm allowed to be!”

“We just talked about this, Emily!” he snapped. “We _just_ had a conversation about jealousy and being mature and reasonable!”

“Yeah, when it involves someone you haven't been involved with,” she retorted.

“I never said I was involved with Chloe,” he insisted.

“But you were, weren't you? You fucked her too, didn't you?” she demanded.

“Goddammit, Emily! My past with Chloe has nothing to do with you or your accident!” He let out a long slow exhale through his nose, trying to calm himself. “Let's just take a moment, be reasonable...” He reached out to stroke her cheek.

She batted away his hand at the last moment. “Fuck you,” she hissed. “It has _everything_ to do with it!”

“Watch your tone, Emily,” he warned. “I don't have to sit here and take this, let you blame me for your own poor decisions.”

“Fine! Leave! If you're not going to be a supportive fiance, then you can go straight to hell!” she shouted.

He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Emily, please, be...”

“Be what, Ian? Be reasonable? Obedient? The perfect 1950's housewife you wish I was? Leave, Ian! Or I swear to God I will have you kicked out of this hospital room...”

“Fine.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Be as unreasonable as you like!” With that, he stalked off, slamming the door behind him.

Emily counted to a hundred, waiting for him to be out of earshot, waiting for her angry racing pulse to slow. Then, still fuming with anger, counted a hundred more. Still seething, she grabbed her pillow, pressed it to her face, and screamed into it with all her pent up frustration and fear and anger.

There was a tentative knock on the door and, thinking it was Ian come to grovel, Emily tossed the pillow aside and readied herself to lash out, but instead found a doctor peering into the room looking rather concerned and Emily couldn't help but wonder just how much of the argument she'd overheard.

“Is now a bad time?” the doctor asked with that tone that all the doctors and nurses had been using with her – the 'kid gloves' tone, like somehow having a broken neck made her fragile.

Emily shook her head, but didn't comment on the tone, even though she'd rather eat scissors than hear one more person talk to her like she was four.

“Sounds like you've had quite a day...” the doctor remarked, coming into the room and glancing at her chart. Obviously, she _had_ heard at least some of the argument...

“You can say that again,” she said with a humourless laugh, falling back into her pattern of sarcasm and deadpan humour when all else failed her.

The doctor extended a hand for her to shake, offering a warm maternal smile. “I'm Dr. Blake – you can call me Alex. I'm the lead orthopod, I'll be in charge of your case because of the complex nature of your injury and the location of the fracture. Rest assured that our hospital is a pioneer in spinal healing and reconstruction – you're in the best possible hands.”

“Great!” Emily exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “When can I get out of here?”

“It's not quite that simple, I'm afraid,” Alex said gently. “You were extremely lucky, Miss Prentiss – you could have been paralyzed for life, if not killed...”

“But?” Emily prompted, sensing that there was more to her statement.

Alex sighed. “ _But_ your CT scan shows no signs of spinal cord injury.”

“That's good, right?”

“It's very good. As far as cervical fractures go,” she conceded. “Your C5 is fractured, but I'm hopeful that it will heal up without surgical intervention.”

“Great,” Emily repeated. “So, if you could just sign the discharge papers...”

“Not so fast,” Alex said with a click of her tongue. “To ensure that your spine heals properly, you will have to wear a cervical collar for the next six to eight weeks.”

“But...” she started to protest.

As if reading her mind, Alex said, “That mean absolutely no gymnastics.”

“I can't just _miss_ two months of training!”

“You can if the alternative is a lifetime of paralysis,” she countered. “You need to take this recovery process very seriously, Emily. That means wearing the brace, going to physio, and staying out of the gym.

Emily heaved a weary sigh. “Could this day get any worse?”

Alex chose to ignore that. “It says in your chart that your mother couldn't be reached when you were admitted?”

She rolled her eyes. Of course at a moment like this, her mother was MIA...she probably didn't even care that Emily was in the worst pain of her life, facing the worst possible outcome. “She's in Paris. But I'm sixteen, I can...”

“What about your father?” Alex pressed. “Wasn't he just here?”

“No!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly. “No – that was my...coach.” She emphasized the last word deliberately.

Alex nodded slowly. “He seems like a real hard ass.”

Emily gave a small snort of laughter. “You could say that...” She let out a shaky breath, chewed a thumb nail anxiously afraid that Alex knew more than she was letting on...

“Listen, Emily,” Alex said slowly, reading her obvious anxiety like a book. “If there's ever anything you'd like to talk about...”

“I, umm,” she stammered, “I'm actually really tired, if I could please just rest for awhile...”

Alex nodded, brow creased with concern.


	19. Chapter 19

Emily was silently fuming.

She sat in the backseat of her mother's towncar as some nameless faceless driver chauffeured them towards the stately mansion Elizabeth had rented to be closer to the Training Centre. She was less than thrilled to be staying with her mother, but it was the only way Elizabeth had agreed to sign the discharge papers and Emily was willing to do _anything_ to get out of the hospital...

“I can't _believe_ you'd do something so _stupid_ ,” Elizabeth ranted. She'd been ranting for at least ten minutes, but Emily had a long history of tuning her out that was coming in rather handy right now. “How could you put our future at risk like that?”

“Our future?” Emily repeated incredulously. “ _Our_ future? How is any of this _your_ future?”

“This has everything to do with me, Emily,” Elizabeth repeated with simpering condescension. “It's naive of you to think this little stunt of yours only affects you.”

She scowled, arms crossed firmly over her chest. “You're right, Mother, I really should have thought of you while I was lying there thinking I was about the spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.”

“Don't be smart, Emily.”

“No, you're right,” she said snidely. “This is absolutely about you – it was selfish of me to think of myself.”

“I don't understand why you're acting like such a brat,” Elizabeth snapped.

“Oh, I don't know...maybe because my neck is fucking broken!” she hissed.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the teenage histrionics. “Watch your language.”

“Yeah, _that_ should really be my primary concern right now,” she said under her breath, but loud enough that her mother could still hear her.

For her part, Elizabeth chose to ignore her sarcasm. “I think there's still a way we can salvage this...” she said, more to herself than to her daughter. “We make you the poster child for athletic safety. You'll go on talk shows, do a speaking tour of schools, maybe even write a memoir...” she listed.

“Like hell I will! I'm only going to be in this stupid brace for a month, six weeks _maybe_ and then I'll be back in the gym, training. I'll still be on the Olympic team.”

Elizabeth heaved a weary sigh. “While your determination is admirable, I think it's time you face the facts. Gymnastics is far too dangerous for you to compete in any longer. I won't have you paralyzed or, God forbid, killed because you don't know your limits.”

“First you push me into gymnastics, even though I didn't want to do it and now that the thing you've been pushing me to achieve since I could walk is within my reach, you're forbidding me from doing it!?” Emily exclaimed.

...

By the time the towncar pulled up outside the house, Emily had the door flung open before the car had even pulled to a compete stop. She couldn't get out of the car fast enough – one more second in close proximity to her mother and she was certain she would have strangled her. (She would have deserved it too.)

Emily stalked through the front door, into the foyer where she found a small florist's shop had cropped up – no doubt sent by her mother's important friends and companies looking to get in her mother's good books. She sighed internally, knowing her mother would make her write a personal thank you to every single person that had sent her flowers (even though none of them actually cared about her or her recovery...it was all business and they cared whether she was useful to them or not).

She approached the nearest bouquet – a delicate bundle of Freesia and Baby's Breath – and reached for the card. Freesia was her favourite flower and, as far as she knew, Ian was the only one who knew that. She wasn't certain whether she hoped it was from him or whether she was still pissed off and hoped it wasn't...

Before she could read the card, though, her mother informed her matter-of-factly, “That's from that nice young man you filmed the commercial with. He wrote you a very thoughtful note – clearly he was raised well.”

Emily couldn't decide if that was meant to be a jab at her, choosing to ignore it in favour of the more immediate anger. “You read a card meant for me?” she snapped, suddenly very grateful it _hadn't_ been from Ian.

“I was merely...” Elizabeth started to explain, perhaps a little patronizingly.

“No, I don't know why I'm surprised,” she interrupted, throwing her hands in the air. “You obviously have no respect for me or my privacy. And you wonder why I don't trust you... This is exactly why I didn't want to stay with you! I can't wait to get out of this house and away from _you_!”

She scowled. “Emily, I've been tolerating your poor attitude because you've just undergone a great hardship, but I will _not_ tolerate this kind of disrespect. I suggest you go upstairs and adjust your attitude.”

“Fine,” she said, stomping up the stairs, muttering darkly to herself.

“The nurse will be by shortly to administer your medication,” Elizabeth called after her. Of course, rather than actually take care of her herself, Elizabeth had hired a home nurse to look after Emily's needs – largely, Emily was certain, because she didn't trust Emily to take the medication responsibly herself.

Emily slammed the bedroom door behind her, resisting the urge to scream out all the frustrations of the last several days. Settling gingerly on the bed, (annoyed that she couldn't dramatically fling herself because of her neck) she lay back with a moody groan.

Sighing, she reached for her phone. **“Thanks for the flowers,”** she texted Derek. She thought about adding that at least _someone_ had, but decided it probably wasn't the best idea to air her dirty laundry with Ian to him... Instead, she said, **“Freesia is my favourite...how did u know?”**

When he didn't immediately respond, she sent another text, **“I'm going to murder my mother if I have to stay here much longer...”**

Fingers poised to send yet another text, she was saved from embarrassing herself further by the nurse knocking on her door.


	20. Chapter 20

Emily awoke the next morning to her phone ringing far too loudly for her drugged up brain. “What?” she snapped by way of answering.

Derek might've laughed at her gruffness if he wasn't a little scared of her reaction. “Morning, Princess. Can we talk?”

“Talk,” she demanded. “You already woke me up...”

“I meant in person.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. Come over. Mother has me under lock and key anyway. Seriously, one of us isn't going to survive an entire month of living together...”

...

“Hey,” Derek said, hands shoved deep into his pockets, feeling awkward and embarrassed – even though he'd seen her in a skimpy bikini, something about seeing Emily in her pyjamas felt intimate and almost familiar.

“I hope you have a good reason for waking me up so early,” she grumbled. She was almost due for another dose of painkillers and pain was making her irritable.

“I, umm,” he stammered, “I wanted to talk about the text messages you sent...”

“What texts?” She frowned. “I thanked you for the flowers.”

“No, after that.”

Emily pursed her lips as she stared at him. “I didn't text you after that. I took my meds and went to sleep.”

He sighed, opened the app on his phone, cheeks pinking as he scrolled through the messages. He cleared his throat and started reading, **“I miss u. I'm sorry about the fight.”**

**“These meds are making me horny... I wish u were here.”**

Emily's mouth was hanging open in shock, but she didn't seem able to form words.

He continued reading, **“You should come over – I want u to fuck me.”**

**“I want u to eat me out, I want u to make me cum, I want...”**

“Stop!' Emily nearly shouted. Her eyes were wide and alarmed. “I-I didn't...” she stuttered. “Did I...?”

He nodded solemnly.

“I think it goes without saying that those weren't meant for you.”

“Then why?” he asked.

“I was drugged out of my skull, I meant to text my boyfriend, but yours was the last number I texted and I guess I got confused.” She shrugged. Her head dropped to her hands. “God, this is _mortifying_...”

Sympathy coursing through his chest, Derek declared, “Consider it forgotten.”

Emily looked up sharply, brow raised. “Just like that?” she asked skeptically.

He nodded. “Just like that.”

“And you're not going to tell anyone or tease me or make dirty jokes?” she pressed.

“How dare you impugn my honour?” he said dramatically. “I am a _gentleman_!”

She gave a snort of laughter. “Whatever.”

Undeterred, he pressed on, “And since nothing weird and awkward and sexually-charged happened between us last night, you can come out for frozen yogurt with me.”

“Right now?” she asked, surprise in her voice like he'd suggested something bizarre and outrageous.

“No, next Tuesday,” he said sarcastically. “Of course now.” When she continued to stare at him as if he'd grown a second head, he demanded, “Give me three good reasons why not.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but her brain apparently failed her in that moment, leaving her jaw hanging open slightly as she wracked her brain to come up with a reason.

“Come _onnnnnnn_ ,” he wheedled. “It's not like you've got anything else to do and it'll get you away from your mother for an hour or two...”

Sighing dramatically, she had to concede that he _did_ have a good point there.

...

“Everyone is staring at me,” Emily whined, stabbing at her frozen yogurt with her spoon rather aggressively. “ _Look at the broken necked freak..._ ” she mimicked in high-pitched mockery.

“You're _not_ a freak,” he insisted, “And no one is saying that. It's all in your imagination. If anything, they're looking at you in sympathy.”

“They are _not_ ,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes. “This place is worse than high school, they're all judging me, whispering about me behind my back.”

He shook his head, doing his best to avoid rolling his eyes right back. “I don't know how you'd know, considering your eyes have been glued to your phone since we left the house,” he pointed out.

Emily looked up sharply from her phone, cheeks pinking slightly with guilt. “I have not,” she retorted.

“Em, I've seen the back of your iPhone more than I've seen your face,” he replied flatly. “You're waiting to hear from _him_ , aren't you? The guy you meant to text last night...”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, chin tipped up imperiously.

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “You're a shit liar, you know?”

“ _Fine_ ,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “We had this really big fight when he came to visit me in the hospital and I haven't heard from him since and I feel really bad – I basically jumped down his throat and blamed him for my accident, even though it really wasn't his fault. I was totally unreasonable and just a huge bitch for no reason. I mean, he wasn't perfect either, but he didn't deserve the way I acted and I just really don't want him to leave me, you know?”

For a moment, there was silence between them while Derek digested the deluge of information that had just been dumped on him.

Seeming to realize that she may have just over-shared, Emily glanced up at him, cheeks pinking slightly as she deflated in on herself in embarrassment. “Sorry. That was...” She shook her head, not having the words.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “As your friend, I'm here to listen. You're allowed to vent and bitch and complain and I'll snap my fingers and say, ' _Damn girl, spill the tea – he a dog_ '.” He bobbed his head in an imitation of sass.

That got a genuine burst of laughter from her and she punched him gently in the shoulder. “You are so fucking weird,” she declared.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and kissing her cheek. “Right back atcha,” he said with a smirk.


	21. Chapter 21

Matt was waiting for Derek when he arrived back at the dorm after dropping Emily back at her mother's and he was decidedly not happy.

“Hey, man,” Derek greeted cheerily, breezing into the room like he was floating on air. He either didn't notice or didn't care that Matt was glowering at him. “Where's Kristy? Shouldn't you be sticking your tongue down her throat?” he teased.

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his gym bag off the floor and started rummaging through it, tossing dirty socks and practice jerseys on the floor.

“I should be asking you the same question,” Matt countered Derek's sunny disposition with a pointed question. “Where's _your_ girlfriend?”

“What?” he asked, looking up sharply, stricken.

Matt shook his head in exasperation. “Let's start with something easier... Where were you?”

“Out, _Mom_ ,” Derek answered, deliberately emphasizing the sarcastic nickname.

“You could be less of an asshole, you know, considering I covered for you.”

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails a little. “With Savannah?” he asked. “Did she come by?”

“ _After_ she'd looked all over campus for you when you weren't at the library like you said you'd be,” Matt emphasized. “So, where were you?”

“With a friend,” Derek said evasively. He looked back into his bag as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world so he didn't have to meet his eyes.

Matt sighed in aggravation. “Meaning Emily...or you would've just said so upfront.”

“So what if I was?” He gestured pointedly at him, dirty sock in one hand, flopping about with his gestures.

“ _So_ , you have a girlfriend,” Matt retorted.

“Emily is just a friend,” Derek insisted for the umpteenth time. “I'm allowed to have friends.”

“See, that's the problem, man,” he said. “Obviously, she's not 'just a friend' or you wouldn't have lied to Savannah. Or to me.”

“Look,” Derek said with a sigh, “I just don't want everyone reading more into my friendship with Emily than there really is.”

Matt just shook his head.

“What?”

“You're kidding yourself. Sooner or later, you'll have to admit to yourself that you're still in love with her.”

“You're wrong,” Derek insisted.

“Fine,” Matt said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Whatever. But stop putting me in the middle of your shit with Savannah. I won't keep lying to Kristy to cover your ass.”

...

JJ wrinkled her nose at whatever was on Emily's plate. “What _is_ that?” she asked warily, settling at the foot of her bed. She'd eaten a lot of unpleasant meals in the name of health and performance, but she wasn't even sure what Emily was eating could be called _food_.

Emily pushed her food around her plate distastefully before setting the tray on the bedside table. “Mother has me on this crazy restrictive diet trying to keep me at 'competition weight' since I can't train,” she bemoaned. “I got frozen yogurt with Derek yesterday and she freaked the fuck out.”

“You got frozen yogurt with Derek?” JJ repeated incredulously. She curled her feet up under her, staring at Emily expectantly.

Emily groaned. “Could you not let your imagination wander while I'm complaining?” she whined.

JJ rolled her eyes. “You can't drop a bomb like that and expect me not to detonate it...”

“A friend and I getting frozen yogurt together is not a 'bomb'.”

“It is when that friend is handsome, perfect for you, and _totally_ in love with you,” she countered.

Emily heaved a sigh. “There are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to start.”

“You're avoiding...” she sing-songed.

“ _You're_ forgetting he has a girlfriend,” she echoed her tone.

“Why are you so hellbent on this 'just friends' thing?” JJ asked, starting to get annoyed that Emily refused to just _admit_ that she and Derek would make a good couple.

“Because I have a fiance! And he's insanely jealous, even though _he_ spends his days in close proximity to his scantily clad ex-girlfriend!” she snapped.

For a moment, JJ's mouth hung open slightly. “Wait, what?”

“He used to date Chloe,” she mumbled, scowl fixed firmly upon her lips.

JJ's eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “ _What_!?”

“Don't make me say it again,” Emily begged.

“Dude...” she lamented, “That's not okay.”

“Just to be clear,” Emily interjected, “Which part exactly do you object to?”

JJ stared at her like she'd grown a second head. “It really doesn't bother you that this guy has a history of preying on teenage girls?”

“He doesn't _prey_ on anyone – they're _relationships_.”

“I'm pretty sure it counts as predatory when there's like a twenty-five year age difference...” she said.

“Jayje...” she said warningly.

“No, Em, listen! Guys his age don't date teenagers because it's _wrong_! You _know_ it's wrong or it wouldn't be a big secret.”

“JJ, _don't_...”

She stood suddenly, pacing a little. “I want you to be happy, Em, and right now, you clearly aren't. And I think it's because deep down, you know you shouldn't be with him. He doesn't make you happy – it seems like every time you talk to him, you're fighting and it's making you miserable. Hell, you wouldn't even be in a fucking neck brace right now if it weren't for him! He could cost you the Olympics!”

“You're wrong!” she argued, “I _love_ him!”

“And I believe that,” JJ insisted, softer, gentler. “But that's not the same as being happy...”

Emily huffed a breath through her nose, lips clamped firmly together like she was struggling to keep from crying, but her reddening eyes betrayed her. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the shaking of her hands.

JJ's eyes shone with sympathy and guilt burned in her chest over saying things that, while _true_ , were perhaps a little cruel. She reached out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't shun the contact. “Em, you're my best friend... I only want what's best for you,” she whispered. “Just... Just think about it.”


	22. Chapter 22

Emily's knee bounced rapidly with her overabundance of nervous energy. Her nails had all been gnawed to shreds over the course of the last twenty minutes. She wanted to pace, but didn't want to draw more attention to herself.

She shouldn't have come here. That much was becoming abundantly clear.

She hadn't exactly _wanted_ to go to the gym, to watch everyone ( _Chloe_ ) training and getting better while she was sidelined, quickly losing flexibility and muscle tone...but literally anything was better than sitting at home with her mother.

Truthfully, watching practice had only been an excuse – she was there to see Ian, as she wanted to talk to him, but she hadn't been about to invite him within five hundred feet of her mother, for obvious reasons.

When she'd arrived, however, she'd gotten no more than a brief glance and a distant greeting before he'd turned back to Chloe and her parallel bars practice. She might as well have been invisible...

Watching as he moved to steady her on the dismount, his hands on his hips in an entirely too familiar manner, Emily made a noise of disgust, rolled her eyes. Chloe was smiling flirtatiously up at Ian, reaching out to stroke his arm. And for an engaged man, he was sure doing a piss poor job of putting a stop to her overtly obvious advances.

Seeing them together made her stomach turn. “I think I'm going to be sick,” she muttered to herself as Chloe giggled coquettishly at something he'd said.

“Disgusting, isn't it?” a voice said, startling Emily as its owner settled beside her on the bench.

She whirled around, relaxing when she realized it was only Tsia. “Are they always like this?” she asked as she pulled her friend in for an embrace. She wanted to ask if she and Ian had been that obvious, but didn't want to open herself up to questions she couldn't answer.

“Pretty much,” Tsia answered with a shrug. “Thick as thieves, ever since you left.” Seeing the way her face fell at the answer, she quickly offered, “But I think it's just because he's trying to replace you.”

Emily's brow arched in question.

“I mean, because you were his star athlete,” she explained. “Not because you two were...” She trailed off, shuddered as if the idea of the two of them acting all lovey-dovey was vomit-inducing.

If only she knew...

“How do you feel?” Tsia asked, changing the subject. “I'm sorry I didn't visit you in the hospital...

Emily waved away her concern. “I feel like I'd like to get back to training before Chloe gets any cockier and her head swells up too big to fit through the damn door.”

She laughed. “If anyone can put her ego in check, it's you,” she agreed.

If Emily heard her, though, she didn't respond, gaze going distant and sad as she watched Ian wrap his arms around Chloe, whispering something in her ear. “I need to go,” she said suddenly. “I can't... I have to...” She trailed off, shook her head. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. Without waiting for a response, she dashed from the gym.

Tears filled her eyes, obscuring her vision so she couldn't see where she was going as she put as much distance between herself and the gym – and Ian – as possible.

She didn't stop until she was out of breath – leaning over, hands on her knees, panting and sobbing in a noisy and awkward combination that was surely attracting attention from passersby...attention she really couldn't handle just then.

As she struggled to catch her breath, she glanced up, realizing she'd made it all the way to the rugby field. A part of her that she really didn't want to examine just then hoped that Derek was there. If anyone could succeed in making her feel better just then, it was him. (And _God_ , how did she let that happen?)

“Hey, are you okay?” a voice asked from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts.

She jumped up, whirled around, coming face to face with a girl she didn't recognize, but was looking at her with sympathy all the same.

“Whoa! Sorry, did I scare you?” the girl apologized, holding up her hands in supplication.

Emily brushed her hair away from her face where it had stuck to her tears. She shook her head. “No, no, it's fine. I'm fine. I...”

“Why don't you sit down?” the girl suggested as it was apparent she was absolutely _not_ fine with her puffy cheeks and eyes red from crying.

Emily attempted a reassuring smile. “Really, I'm fine, you don't have to...”

Her assurances were interrupted by the girl grabbing her hand, pulling her down to sit on the nearby bleachers. “Do you want to talk about...” she started to ask, then paused, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Wait – are you Emily Prentiss?”

Emily frowned. “Have we met?”

Seeming to realize that had sounded a little creepy, she apologized and introduced herself, “I'm Savannah – we haven't met, I just heart about you through the grape vine... You're kinda famous around here.”

“ _You're_ Savannah?” she repeated, stomach sinking for reasons she had no intention of examining.

If she found that response odd, she didn't comment, just nodding with a bright smile. “So, do you want to talk?”

Mouth hanging open for a brief moment, she debated what to say, eventually sighing, muttering, “It's nothing. Just boyfriend troubles...”

“Ha,” Savannah said humourlessly. “Tell me about it...”

Emily felt a wave of perverse curiosity wash over her in spite of herself. “Yeah?” she asked in an attempt at nonchalance.

“It's whatever.” Savannah waved off her concern. “I think he's in love with someone else...”

“Oh... I-I'm sorry to hear that,” she stammered awkwardly.

“It's not like we were going to get married and raise a family anyway,” Savannah said matter-of-factly. “We're still just kids, really. And neither one of us really has the time and energy to focus on a relationship with the Olympics coming up. You know?”

She nodded. She _did_ know. Those were all the reasons she told herself why she shouldn't accept Ian's proposal. And yet...

Emily shook her head, sighed. “Boys...” she muttered.

Savannah laughed. “You can say that again.”


	23. Chapter 23

“So... I heard you stopped by rugby practice today...”

Emily coughed, spluttered, choking on the bite of sushi in her mouth. “Oh...yeah, I, umm... I may have ended up there. Not like looking for you or anything.” She cleared her throat. “How did you... Who told you?”

“Savannah may have mentioned she bumped into the famous Emily Prentiss.” Derek attempted to stifle his grin at her sudden shyness, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. “So, what did you two girls chat about?” He winked, waggled his brows.

“Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't nearly as sordid.”

He clapped a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “Are you telling me you weren't talking about how attractive I am?”

“Like your ego needs the boost,” she muttered.

He chuckled softly, shook his head before sobering up. “She said you were crying,” he said gently, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She was suddenly overly interested in dipping her shrimp tempura in the soy sauce so he couldn't see the emotions playing across her face. “Nothing,” she tried to insist.

He could see through her stone-faced facade as easily as glass. “Savannah mentioned something about boyfriend trouble...” he gently encouraged.

Emily huffed a frustrated breath through her nose. “Not sure I even _have_ a boyfriend left to have trouble with...” she grumbled.

“Oh...” he said, surprised. “I, umm... I didn't realize...”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter,” she interrupted. “If he wants to feel up his ex in front of everyone, I don't need that kind of bullshit.” She seemed to realize then that he was staring at her, wide- eyed at her sudden penchant for over-sharing. She cleared her throat, flicked her tongue out over her top lip. “Anyway...”

Though he was eager for more information about her seemingly sudden split from this boyfriend he'd heard so much about, he followed her lead. “So, I'm guessing your visit to the gym didn't go so great?”

Her expression seemed sad then. “I just... I didn't realize how hard it would be to go back.”

He didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue, knowing that if he startled her out of her trance, she'd retreat back into herself and he wouldn't get another word out of her.

“It's just...it's been my whole world for so long,” she murmured, “What if I can never go back? Who will I be, if not a gymnast?” She looked into his eyes, then, seemingly pleading with him for an answer she desperately needed, but didn't have.

“You'll be Emily Prentiss,” he answered simply with an encouraging smile.

She rolled her eyes, cocked her head to fix him with an exasperated look.

He continued, “You'll be the smartest, fiercest, most determined, most beautiful girl I've ever had the privilege to call my friend.”

“Derek, you don't have to...” she said gently, feeling her cheeks heat up. She dropped her gaze away from the intensity in his eyes.

He reached out to gently tip her chin up so she was forced to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Em. You're incredible. I'm lucky to know you.”

Her smile was soft, gentle. “Thanks,” she whispered. But it was clear she wasn't entirely buying his effusive speech/

“I'm really glad I met you,” he insisted. “Even if you were kind of a bitch that first day,” he teased.

She giggled faintly because, _yeah_ , she _had_ been a bitch to him and for whatever reason, he'd let her abrasive attitude slide right off of him to see through to the person she was trying to hide with sarcasm and bitchiness.

Then, before either of them knew what was happening, his lips were on hers. He kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive, like he'd die without her lips. And when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she didn't pull away.

If she was stunned by the sudden contact, she made no move to stop it. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his neck, nails scrabbling for purchase on his shoulder, the other hand fisting in the front of his shirt.

It wasn't like kissing Ian – no stubble burning her skin, no taste of whiskey on his tongue, no feeling like he was trying to possess her, claim her. It was...different and unfamiliar and _nice_. In that moment, she was content to keep on kissing him forever.

Derek pulled away first, eyes wide and stunned, looking like he couldn't believe he'd just done that...again. “Oh, God, Em... I'm so sorry,” he rushed to supply. He'd already fucked up like this once before and had seen how badly that had turned out – he wasn't eager to repeat those mistakes. “I didn't mean to...”

For a long time, she said nothing, teeth scraping across her bottom lip so hard it looked painful. “I kissed you back,” she whispered at length.

“What?” That had been the last thing he'd expected her to say.

“I kissed you back,” she repeated. “I should have pushed you away, but I didn't...”

“Em...” he said slowly, sighed. “I shouldn't have kissed you. But I'm not sorry I did.”

She seemed taken aback by that, looking up sharply, brow high on her forehead.

“I like you, Em – I really like you. I want to be with you.” He never broke eye contact as he spoke, needing her to see in his gaze how utterly serious he was about her.

“Derek, I...” she stammered. She wasn't sure what she was going to say in that moment, faltered before she could continue.

“But I have a girlfriend,” he continued. “And I can't hurt her – or you – like that. I want to be with you, but I have to do it the right way.”

She had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, but there was a soft smile playing about her lips. She cleared her throat, brushed her hair away from her face. “We'd better finish this sushi before Mother gets home,” she changed the subject. “It's not on my new diet plan...”

He laughed a little, following her lead. “Your mother is a real piece of work.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea.”


	24. Chapter 24

There were a lot of things Derek really enjoyed about being an elite athlete...but studying the playbook was not one of them.

At least, not when he was still preoccupied with thoughts of Emily – the feel of her lips on his, the scent of her hair, the shy little smile as she pulled away... He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to hold her hand and take her on a real date and know that she was _his_.

But he knew that he had to do it _right_. He had to end things with Savannah and be the gentleman his mother had raised him to be. (Admittedly, kissing a girl who wasn't his girlfriend probably wasn't something his mother would approve of...but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her – or him.)

He'd been staring blankly at the same page, not comprehending a single part of the play illustrated there, for the past hour, knowing that he needed to have the plays memorized before the next practice...but knowing he should focus and actually being able to do so were two very different things.

He was thankful when a knock at the door interrupted his half-hearted attempt at concentration. Abandoning the playbook, he called out jokingly, “Matt, if you forget your keys one more time, I'm going to make you sleep in the hallway!”

(Derek may have been the slob of the two of them, but he was also somehow the responsible one when it came to not forgetting important things in the dorm...)

He was surprised, then, when he opened the door not to find his roommate, but his girlfriend. She leaned up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips in greeting. If he didn't respond as enthusiastically as usual, she didn't seem to notice as she breezed past him into the room, wrinkling her nose as the scent of sweaty rugby pads hit her.

“What's up?” he asked, plastering on a smile so she couldn't read his thoughts in his expression. “I thought you had practice.” He hoped his tone had the bright and airy quality he was attempting to inject into it to mask the preoccupation underneath.

“Look outside,” Savannah replied, gesturing vaguely at the window, “It's cats and dogs out there...”

Sure enough, when he pushed aside the blinds to look outside, it was indeed pouring. “Oh,” he said lamely.

“Are you busy?” she asked, eyeing the playbook laying discarded on his desk (along with several cans of energy drink that his coach definitely wouldn't approve of).

He shrugged. “I wasn't getting anywhere. Guess my heart's just not in it today.” (Exactly _where_ his heart was, though, he certainly wasn't about to confess...)

“Well, speaking of your heart,” Savannah said with a cheesy grin, “How about you come get a coffee with your girlfriend?” Then, as an afterthought, “Maybe decaf for you...” She gestured sweepingly to his discarded cans.

...

Derek couldn't stop fidgeting. Admittedly, it may have been a mistake to down so many energy drinks in such a short time...though, if he were being honest with himself, he knew that wasn't the real reason he was so high-strung.

He chewed absently on a stir stick, tearing the plastic to shreds with his teeth because so long as his mouth was occupied, he didn't have to say anything. Which was good because wherever his brain was, it certainly wasn't inside his head just then...

Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had to go into this breakup blind. He'd thought the words would just come to him once the situation presented itself, but was becoming abundantly clear to him that that wasn't how things were going to play out. And, to be honest, he'd never exactly been the best at putting his feelings into words in the first place... Which might have been part of the reason he'd never had a real girlfriend before: he wasn't good at the feelings and the conversations and, really, anything other than the physical parts.

He hated to think that Savannah had been sort of a 'practice run', so to speak... He'd made a genuine effort with her, trying to be different – to be _better_ – but somewhere at the back of his mind, he'd known she wasn't the one he really wanted. He'd been happy...but he also knew he'd be happier with someone else and therein lay the problem.

The more he thought on the situation in which he'd created for himself, the harder he ground the straw between his molars.

Savannah clearly knew that something was up with him and kept staring at him with an expectant expression, waiting for him to say the words that were obviously on his mind.

He had a feeling she already knew what he was going to say...

She'd made several attempts at holding his hand and each time he'd pulled his hand away before she could grasp it, trying to pretend like he didn't understand her intention. And, each time, she'd get this knowing look on her face, but didn't comment...until she apparently couldn't take the awkward silence any longer.

“You can just say it, you know...”

“Huh?” He looked up sharply, eyes wide in surprise and confusion, almost like he'd forgotten she was there as his mind whirred away trying to form his thoughts into a cohesive sentence.

“You want to break up,” she put voice to the words that were on the tip of his tongue but refused to come out.

“What?” he stammered awkwardly, “Why... Why would you... What makes you say that?”

“You haven't exactly been subtle,” she pointed out.

For a few moments, he babbled like an idiot, trying to find something – anything – to say. Failing that, he sighed, dropped his head to his chest, unable to meet her eyes. “Savannah, I...”

“You're in love with someone else,” she finished for him.

He looked up sharply, stunned. “How did you...” He shook his head. “Savannah, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I just...”

She reached across to squeeze his hand, offering an understanding smile. “You can't help who you fall in love with,” she said gently.


	25. Chapter 25

“JJ, I swear to God, I _cannot_ do this – I'm freaking out,” Emily bemoaned from the bathroom.

“Emily, you're doing this if I have to drag you there myself,” JJ insisted from her spot on the bed, gesturing in Emily's direction with a high heel.

“No, you don't understand,” she whined, “I haven't been on a first date in a really long time and I'm not good at, you know, human contact...” She stepped out of the bathroom gesturing at the zipper on her dress, signalling for help.

JJ rolled her eyes, zipping the dress. “Granted, you do suck at being a person, but he already likes you, so chill.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk,” she muttered.

“Don't get me wrong,” JJ continued, “I love the idea of the two of you as a couple. I'm so glad you decided to break up with your so-called 'fiance' and date someone age appropriate.”

At the words 'break up', Emily made a guilty little squeak.

“Wait...” JJ said slowly, intensely, turning Emily to meet her accusing stare. “You _did_ break up with him, didn't you?”

“Yeah...” she said in a high-pitched voice.

“Are you lying to me?” JJ glared at her, until her facade cracked.

“I don't know what we are, okay? But I'm pretty sure we're not still engaged,” she admitted.

“ _Pretty sure_?” JJ repeated. “You're about to go on a date and you may or may not still have a fiance?”

“He hasn't spoken to me since the accident, all the while he's busy putting his hands all over Chloe fucking Donaghy, so I think I'm entitled to get dinner with another guy.”

For a few moments, JJ just blinked at her in stunned silence. “Jesus, the two of you are _so_ fucked up...”

Emily took that to mean permission – or at least acceptance. “I wish I didn't have to wear this stupid fucking brace. It makes my neck look fat...”

“You are so entirely fucked up all on your own,”JJ muttered under her breath.

“Shut up,” Emily grumbled, but she did so teasingly.

JJ flipped her the middle finger before moving on to the more pressing issue. “So, did Derek and Savannah officially break up?” she asked. “That's what the rumour mill is saying, but Savannah didn't look upset last time I saw her, so...”

“They broke up,” Emily confirmed.

“Really?” JJ asked, seeming more surprised than the news seemed to warrent – at least, in Emily's opinion.

She nodded. “Savannah said she suspected he had feelings for someone else, so she was fine with it.”

“So...” JJ prompted, brow raised expectantly.

“So?” Emily repeated, not understanding where JJ was headed with the prompt.

“So, when are you going to return the favour and make your not-engagement official?” she expanded, staring pointedly at Emily until she squirmed uncomfortably.

But before she had the chance to launch into excuses and defenses and half-truths, her phone chimed, saving her from putting her foot in her mouth.

“Derek?” JJ guessed, looking both pleased by the chance to tease her and annoyed at the loss of further interrogation.

“It's a new Instagram post from Chloe,” Emily muttered darkly.

“Why the fuck are you following her on Instagram?” JJ asked. “No, more importantly, why do you have her on notifications?”

“You know what they say...keep your friends close, your enemies under surveillance,” she explained. If it was supposed to be a joke, JJ couldn't tell.

“Well, what did she post?”

“Oh, she's making things plenty clear for me,” Emily said ambiguously, turning the screen so JJ could see the picture.

“Oh...” was all she could manage to say, seeing the selfie Chloe had posted: Ian with his arms wrapped around the girl in what surely couldn't be a professional manner. She'd even captioned it, ' _Best Coach Ever_ '. “Em...” she started to apologize, knowing that even if things were nebulous between Emily and Ian, it couldn't be easy to see something like that.

Emily brushed off the apology before she could get the words out. “You know what, I don't care. She can have him. I'm not going to let anything ruin this night for me.”

...

Emily technically wasn't supposed to be leaving the house. But Elizabeth wasn't home, so technically it didn't matter. (And, if Emily hadn't followed the rules at six, she certainly wasn't about to follow them at sixteen.)

When she answered the door, Derek brandished a bouquet of flowers at her like a magician who'd just pulled them from his sleeve. He grinned, entirely too proud of himself when she blushed as she took them, inhaling their sweet scent with a shy smile.

“You didn't have to do this,” she said, even though it was obvious she was pleased by the gesture.

“It's our first date,” he said as if that were the obvious excuse.

“I already like you, you don't have to try to impress me,” she pointed out.

He shook his head, grinning fondly. “Just accept the flowers, you pain in the ass,” he teased.

Doing as ordered, she headed into the kitchen in search of a vase. “So, where are you taking me on this date?” she called back to him.

“Somewhere fun,” he answered vaguely, following her.

“I'm not allowed to do anything _fun_ ,” she argued, gesturing to her neck brace.

He sighed dramatically. “Would you just trust me?”

“Would you just _tell_ me?” she retorted, smirking at him, full of sass.

Approaching her, he rested his hands on her hips, backing her into the counter behind her. He leaned in until his lips were ghosting over hers. “You're lucky I like you so much,” he whispered, then kissed her.

She wrapped both arms around his neck, bolder now than she had been, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He gave an appreciative little hum, enjoying her new-found confidence. Responding in kind, he let one hand wander down to cup her ass. She made a surprised little sound, but didn't complain or make any move to stop.

Finally, he reluctantly pulled away (not without a shit-eating little grin). “As much as I enjoy this, we're going to miss our tee time...”

“Tee time?” she repeated skeptically.


	26. Chapter 26

“Mini golf?” JJ repeated disdainfully, expression like Emily had just told her she had a pop quiz in calculus. “ _Really_?” She'd been waiting eagerly to hear every last detail of Emily's date and was, apparently, sorely disappointed.

“I know it sounds cheesy,” Emily agreed, “It's not what I was expecting... But it was actually really sweet.”

“Sweet?” JJ echoed, brow raised.

“He knows I never really got the chance to be a kid, so he wanted to do something fun together,” she explained. “I'd actually never been mini-golfing before.”

“Okay, now that's just sad...”

Emily rolled her eyes. “The point is, I had a really good time,” she said. “I can't remember the last time I felt like a normal teenager and last night...it was like that's all he cared about.”

JJ's expression softened, remembering that – though she acted mature beyond her years – Emily was really more of a lost little girl than she ever dared to let on. “He's a good guy,” she said quietly, “And he seems to really care about you.”

More to herself than to JJ, Emily said, “I have – _had_? - a fiance, but I've never felt really genuinely cared for like this...”

Not sure if she'd been intended to hear that, JJ didn't comment, though she had no shortage of things to say on the matter. Changing the subject instead, she asked, “Did he at least take you out for dinner afterwards?”

“We got pizza,” she answered, almost conspiratorially – pizza was definitely not allowed on her training diet, let alone the new restrictive diet her mother had imposed...

JJ just laughed. “And?” she pressed.

“ _And_?” Emily echoed, confused by what she was implying.

“Was there kissing?”

“ _Jayje_ ,” Emily whined as if scandalized. JJ just looked at her expectantly until she relented with a pointed, “ _Yes_...we made out a little.”

“Whore,” she teased.

“Fuck you,” Emily retorted with a wink.

...

“How's the speaking tour going?”

Emily lay back on the hotel bed, phone in her hands while she Facetimed Derek. She tried to scowl, but it was exceedingly difficult to be in a bad mood while she was talking to him. “Torture,” she bemoaned. “I don't know why the fuck I agreed to this...”

Elizabeth had eventually convinced her to do a speaking tour of schools during her time away from the gym. She'd written (what she'd thought was) a lovely speech about persistence and overcoming and following your dreams. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had not shared her opinion, editing the speech until it resembled nothing of what Emily had started with.

Derek laughed. “That good, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can't do a damn thing right, according to Mother. She changed my whole speech right before I was supposed to do the presentation and then gave me shit when I didn't seem 'practiced' enough...”

He made a sympathetic noise. Then, in an attempt to get her mind off it, joked, “I'm surprised she's not sitting in on our conversation...”

Emily gave a snort of amusement. “She's in the next room, so keep your voice down. She doesn't know I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, so I'm your boyfriend now, am I?” he teased. “What makes you think I like you that much?”

“Keep it up and you won't be,” she deadpanned.

“Fine, fine,” he surrendered, “I'll be nice to my girlfriend.”

Her cheeks pinked a little at the term. “So...are we officially... _that_?”

“Are we what?” he prompted, wanted to hear her say it.

She scowled, knowing exactly what he was doing, and bit out the words, “Boyfriend and girlfriend...”

He laughed, winked. “I've been waiting to hear you say that since the day I met you.”

For a moment, her mouth hung open slightly. “You have?”

He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “I mean...yeah. I knew the only way to get you out of my head was to make you mine.”

“Sweet-talker,” she mumbled shyly. She cleared her throat, suddenly seeming more embarrassed. “So, did you...umm...did you get the pictures I sent?”

A look of confusion crossed his face. “Pictures?”

Thinking he was playing dumb to embarrass her, she explained. “You know...the _risque_ ones?” she explained. “With the red lacy lingerie...”

She could see the moment he perked up upon hearing her explanation. “While they sound _amazing_ and I would love to see them, I'm pretty sure I'd remember if you'd sent them to me.”

Her face went chalk white. “Derek, I swear to God, if this is some kind of joke...”

“I'm not messing with you,” he insisted. “You didn't send me any pictures.”

“I _did_ ,” she argued. She switched apps to prove to herself that she had. “I...” she trailed off, eyes going wide. “I sent them to the wrong person...” she said in horror.

“Who'd you send them to?” he asked. It was clear from his expression that he was trying very hard not to laugh, knowing she'd kill him if he did.

“JJ...” she whispered. “Oh, God – she's never going to let me live this down!”

Sure enough, right on cue, a text from JJ popped up at the top of her screen. **“Nice nudes...which boytoy r u trying to seduce???”**

**“Not dating Ian,”** she replied. **“I don't send nudes to people I'm not dating.”**

**“So you admit you have in the past??”** JJ texted, accompanied by a thinking emoji. Then, in quick succession, **“If you didn't break up, ur still dating...”** Then, a third, **“Nudes after only three weeks??? Whore.......”**

“What's going on?” Derek's voice came, reminding her that he was still on Facetime with her. “What's she saying?”

“Nothing,” Emily muttered. “Just making me question why I'm friends with her...”

“I thought she was your only friend?” he teased.

All traces of amusement vanished from her face. “I hope you're pleased with yourself because now I'm not sending those pictures...”

The playful smirk on his lips disappeared. “Hey...” he whined, “I was just kidding. I'm sure you have lots of friends – I've just never seen any of them. Possibly because they're invisible...”

“Keep going,” she challenged him, “You may never see the skin those pictures showed at this rate.”

He chuckled softly. “I'm just messing with you, Princess. It's how I show my love.”

Her eyes went wide. “How you show your what now?”

For a moment, his amusement froze on his face, seemingly caught off guard by his sudden admission. Then, he shrugged, forging ahead anyway. “Well, I was waiting for a more romantic moment to say it, but yeah... I love you.”

“Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” he insisted.

“Maybe a little,” she said, shy smile playing about her lips. For several moments, she couldn't quite meet his gaze, cheeks adorably red. “I, umm...” she stammered, “I love you too.”

His smile brilliant, he winked, teased, “So, about those pictures...”


	27. Chapter 27

Approaching his dorm, Derek brightened instantly upon catching sight of Emily leaning against his door, waiting for him. “Hey, Princess!” he greeted, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before unlocking the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I can't just come visit my boyfriend for no reason?” she asked playfully, elbowing past him into the room and heading straight for his closet.

“Say it again,” he requested, watching her with curiosity.

She turned back to give him a questioning look. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, frowning. “You were okay with it the last time we talked...”

“I still am,” he insisted. “I just like to hear you say it.”

She shook her head, smiling fondly. “You big softie,” she muttered as she turned back to rummaging in the pile of clothes on the floor of his closet.

“Wanna tell me what exactly you're doing?” he asked.

“You texted me like seventeen times complaining about your French homework, so I came over to help,” she explained as if it should be obvious.

“That's nice of you,” he said, “But I meant what are you doing in my closet?”

She emerged triumphant then, one hand holding up his rugby team sweatshirt as her trophy. “Found it!” she declared, proceeding to pull it on over her head. It was comically large on her small gymnast frame, but the effect was rather adorable.

Derek hummed a pleased little note, pulling her into his chest so he could whisper in her ear, “That's kind of sexy, you know – seeing you wearing my clothes...”

She gave a husky little laugh in response, but gently pushed him away. “Behave yourself, mister, you've got French homework that needs doing.”

“I can think of something else that I'd rather _do_...” he replied, waggling his brows.

But she was already flipping through his textbook in search of that week's lesson, letting him know that she wasn't falling for his charm just then. With a glance back over her shoulder, she said, “Come on – _mettons-nous au travail_!”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a shrug, “Whatever you said.”

She rolled her eyes. “There's a _lot_ of work to do here...” she muttered.

...

She managed to keep him on task for one very long hour (or, as focused as he could be while his hand continued to wander up her thigh). “You're not even listening to me,” she complained.

He held up his hands in surrender. “It's just really hard to focus when you're talking all this _voulez vous coucher avec moi_ stuff...” he informed her seriously, lips wandering along her jawline.

“Derek...” she warned, without putting any real heat behind it.

“Come on,” he wheedled, “I can think of far more interesting French things to do...”

She groaned softly, feeling herself giving in. “What about my neck?”

“We'll find a way,” he insisted, tugging her to stand so that he could pull her hips up against his, lining their bodies up so he could kiss her properly. She let him gently guide her back to sit on the edge of his bed, lips never leaving hers. “How about the live version of those photos?” he husked between heated kisses, one hand teasing at the waistband of her jeans.

“I want you,” she agreed.

But as his hand slipped inside her jeans, she stiffened, a look of fear crossing her face. Immediately, he withdrew his fingers, moving back to give her space.

“Em?” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

She plastered on a smile that was only half fake. “Sorry,” she murmured, one hand lifting to rest against his cheek. “I guess things just got really real all of a sudden...”

“Hey,” he said gently, turning his head to kiss her palm, “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for.”

“I know,” she insisted, offered a smile – more genuine this time. “I'm ready,” she assured him.

“If you're sure...” When she nodded her assurance, he pulled her closer by her belt loops until he could kiss her properly again. He seemed a little gun-shy, though, keeping his hands at her waist.

The silent consideration of her boundaries almost made her tear up, thinking of how genuinely _good_ he was. With gentle pressure, she forced him to lay back, straddling his hips. (If she'd had any doubts that he wanted her, his hard-on pressing against her quickly vanquished them.)

He looked up at her, silently asking her if she was sure...and she _was_ , assuring him with a smirk before latching her lips to his neck.

Accepting her assurances, he slipped a hand under her shirt, letting it wander over the planes of her back until he reached her bra clasp.

What might've happened next, though, remained a mystery because at that moment, the door opened to admit Matt.

“Yo, man, are you...” He trailed off sharply, catching sight of the two of them in an obviously compromising position.

Emily gave a little squeak of surprise, crawling off Derek, cheeks nearly glowing red. She couldn't meet Matt's eye.

Sitting up, Derek grabbed a pillow to cover his obvious hard-on. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “Hey, man...”

“No tie on the door knob?” Matt asked.

“I, umm... I should go,” Emily whispered, face even redder. She stood quickly, grabbed his sweatshirt from where she'd discarded it in the heat of the moment. She paused at the door, smiled back at Derek. “Love you.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Matt turned to Derek. “The L-word already, huh?”

Derek shrugged. “That a problem?”

“Well, you sure didn't waste any time...” he said pointedly.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Matt fixed him with a serious look. “How long did you date Savannah? You never told her you loved her...” When Derek shot him a curious look, he explained, “Girls talk.”

“I wasn't going to say it if I didn't mean it – that wouldn't have been fair to her,” Derek insisted. “Just because I didn't love her doesn't mean I didn't care about her though.”

“You're leaving something out, though,” Matt said.

“Such as?”

“You didn't love her because you were already in love with Emily,” he accused.

Derek held up his hands in self-defense. “I was loyal to Savannah the entire time,” he defended.

“That's not what I said, though...”

“Look, what do you want from me, man?” Derek asked. “Did I string her along? Maybe a little. But I ended it before things got serious and spared us both a lot of heartache, so I don't understand why you're so pissed off!”

“I'm pissed off because I went to bat for you – she knew your reputation and I convinced her to give you a shot anyway – and you were a total tool.”

“I'm not going to apologize for falling in love with Emily,” Derek said firmly. “Because she's the best damn thing that ever happened to me. And if you have a problem with that, then...I feel sorry for you because you obviously don't know how that feels.”


	28. Chapter 28

The gym was a ghost town at ten o'clock on a Friday night, all the gymnasts having headed back to their dorms after a long day of training to rest up before they were due back tomorrow morning.

But for the lights in Ian's office, the cavernous space was dark and silent. He should have long departed for his lodging, but he was mulling over the rankings for the next day's practice. Time was quickly running out for him to make a final decision on his team.

The office door clicked shut startling him from his work. He looked up sharply to find Chloe leaning against the door, a mischievous smile on her lips. “It's late, Donaghy,” he reminded, “And past your curfew.”

She shrugged, smirked. “I brought you dinner,” she said as if she hadn't heard him. She set two take- away containers on his desk, the scent of gravy wafting off them.

“It's 10PM,” he reminded her. “The commissary stops serving dinner at seven.”

“I was doing some extra strength training, so I missed it,” she said. “And I know you always work yourself half to death, so I know you haven't eaten either.” He nodded once, silently admitting she was right. “See?” she prompted. “Who knows you better than I do?”

Without commenting on that, he eyed the containers. “What did you bring?” he asked.

“Just a few things from your favourite Irish pub downtown.” She grinned, pleased with herself.

“Since when do they offer take-away? And since when do they admit sixteen year olds?” he inquired.

She leaned in close – close enough that the slightest move from either of them would have their lips brushing against the other's. “There's nothing in this world that a girl with money can't get...”

...

“This is nice,” Chloe remarked, almost airily, setting aside her dinner to watch him, eyes burning with intensity. He raised a brow in question, eyes meeting hers. “You, me...eating together late at night, like we used to do back in Ireland,” she explained. “Almost like our old dates...”

“It's not a date,” he insisted immediately.

“Why?” she asked, head cocked to the side. “Are you seeing someone? Because I've noticed that ever since _she_ stopped training you've been spending a lot of time alone...”

“Chloe...” he scolded, but it was half-hearted.

Chloe was out of her chair the next moment, approaching behind his desk. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, gently kneading the stiff muscles in his neck. “You're so tense,” she purred. “You're too stressed.”

He didn't respond, which Chloe took as her cue to continue.

With faux-innocence, she said, “I hear things, you know... The campus gossip is that Emily's been hooking up with some guy on the rugby team. I think his name is Derek Morgan. So much for taking it easy...” She scoffed.

A long pause ensued in which Ian remained starkly silent. He'd suspected that there was someone else, but until now, he'd had no proof.

“Ian, did you hear me?” Chloe asked, hands stilling on his shoulders. She pursed her lips, then leaned in close to his ear, murmuring, “You look so tired – why don't you crash at my dorm tonight?”

“Chloe, I don't think...” he started to protest.

“It's much closer than your house,” she wheedled. “I'm all alone at night...” She nuzzled his neck, breath hot on his skin. “Think of it as a thank you for dinner...”

...

Derek glanced at his watch, jogging the last few feet to the gym doors, carefully balancing the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

It was a big day for Emily: today was her first day back at the gym, having been given the all-clear by her doctor the day before. She wasn't allowed to do any big stunts yet, but she was just happy to be training again.

Outside the gym, a man leaned against the brick wall, wreathed in smoke; it wasn't until he got closer that Derek recognized him as the gymnastics coach. (It was rare to see anyone smoking on a campus full of elite athletes, but somehow he wasn't surprised, based on the stories Emily had told him...)

The man took a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in his lungs for a moment before asking on an exhale,"You're Derek Morgan, right?"

The question startled Derek, not having realized the man even knew his name. "Yes," he answered, but it was inflected like a question. Then, because his mother had raised a gentleman, he added, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name..." He would have offered a hand to shake, but his were full of flowers.

"Ian Doyle," he introduced himself, "I'm Emily's fiance."

For a moment, Derek's mouth hung open stupidly. "Wh-what?" he stammered. Surely, he'd misheard him...

"She didn't tell you?" he remarked, almost pleasantly, if it weren't for the knife edge below the words.

"No – she, umm, she never mentioned a fiance..."

"Imagine that," he said with the same false pleasantness. Then, leaving Derek to mull over the revelation, he dropped the cigarette to the ground, smudging it across the pavement with the toe of his shoe and headed back into the gym without a backward glance.

Derek stood frozen in place, stunned, until Emily came bounding out the doors, chatting brightly with another gymnast until she caught sight of him, a brilliant smile crossing her lips. She ran the last few steps to meet him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she trilled, "It is _so_ good to be training again!" Then, apparently noticing the flowers in his hand, she scolded, "What did I tell you about the flowers?"

He didn't respond, still trying to process the news that not only was Emily's boyfriend her fifty-something coach, but they'd been _engaged_...

"Derek?" she prompted, brow creased with concern. "Everything alright?" She reached out to rest a hand on his elbow, but he side-stepped the contact before she could reach him.

"You tell me," he replied, finding his voice again. When she continued to stare quizzically at him, he continued, "How was seeing your fiance again?"

"What?" she asked, stricken, face going ghostly white.

"Your _fiance_ ," he repeated, "The one you forgot to mention."

"Derek, I..." she stammered. "How... How did you...?"

"How did I find out your secret?" he asked bitterly. " _He_ told me." He shook his head in disgust. "When you told me you had a boyfriend, you sure left out a few important details, didn't you?"

"Derek, _please_ , just let me..."

"Let you what?" he snapped, "Tell me more lies?"

"I never lied!" she insisted.

"Whatever, Emily," he scoffed. He shoved the flowers at her. "These are for you. Enjoy them because we're done."


	29. Chapter 29

Emily stomped into Ian's office, trembling with rage. She'd followed Derek back to his dorm, begging him to listen, but he refused to entertain anything she had to say – not that she could blame him... Well, if Derek wouldn't listen, she'd make _damn_ sure Ian would...

“How dare you!?” Emily growled. Her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that her nails dug furrows into her palms, her knuckles going white, hands shaking with the effort of restraining herself from doing something stupid and violent. “How fucking _dare_ you!?”

Ian looked up from his work as if pleasantly surprised to see her standing there. “Hello again, Emily...something the matter?” he asked almost pleasantly.

She crossed the room to slam her palms down on his desk, rattling the disarray of papers. “Don't bullshit me, Ian,” she hissed, “You know exactly what's wrong, you fucking asshole!”

His expression darkened as she lashed out; it had been an unspoken rule of their relationship...never make him angry. “Where's my ring?” he demanded.

She dropped the ring unceremoniously onto the desk, just out of his reach, the metal clattering against the wood surface with a satisfying sound. “I didn't want it in the first place.” It was freeing, in a way, to be rid of the thing – she felt like she could breathe for the first time in _years_.

“Don't lie, Emily,” he snarled, “It's unbecoming.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped.

“You used to like that,” Ian replied, that cold smirk on his face that he got when he wanted to cut her with his words.

She shrugged, ready to cut him right back. “Some things are easier to fake than others.”

In the blink of an eye, Ian crossed the room until his hand closed around her throat, slamming her against the wall. “You've always been a mouthy little bitch,” he hissed by her ear.

“And you've always been a son of a bitch,” she retorted, gasping for breath as he pressed harder against her throat. She refused to give him the satisfaction of struggling, of begging, even as dark spots danced in front of her eyes, air quickly depleting.

“I never pretended otherwise.” He tightened his fingers around her neck, watching her face turn red, her eyes bug out. “You, on the other hand...you really laid on the good girl act thick – I actually bought it. Then, as soon as I turned my back, you're fucking some other guy.” He let one hand wander up her thigh until his knuckles brushed her core through her jeans. “Well, if you want to be a whore, I'll treat you like one...”

With her last bit of air, she managed to push him off her and, inhaling frantically, she drew back and punched him in the jaw making him stumble backwards, catching himself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling.

“Don't _ever_ fucking touch me!” she shouted, lungs still heaving, desperate for air. “Or I swear to God, I will _ruin_ you...”

He glared at her as he swiped away the blood dripping from his nose. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered, crossing the room and throwing open the door to his office. “Get out. And consider yourself lucky I can't throw you off the team without arising suspicion.”

...

“Because I like you, I'm _not_ going to say I told you so...” JJ said, with a slight air of superiority, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at her – half pityingly, half rolling her eyes. She was glad Emily was safely away from the man, but if she'd listened to her, she could have saved herself the whole messy break up with Derek and the almost being strangled to death...

“JJ, I swear to God,” Emily mumbled, voice muffled by her hands covering her face. “I'm not in the mood to listen to you lecture me.”

Taking pity on her, JJ shook her head a little, but remained silent on the subject. “Move over,” she demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed where Emily had dramatically flopped down.

Emily moved her hands to glare up at her, but moved over on the bed anyway, letting JJ lay down next to her. JJ reached over to twine her fingers with Emily's squeezing her hand in silent comfort, letting her know that no matter how badly she'd fucked up, she was always going to be there for her (to comfort _and_ condemn) because she was her best friend.

For a long time, they lay in silence until JJ worked up the courage to say what she'd been thinking for a while now, “You need to go to the police.”

“What?” she squeaked, incredulous, turning her head to give JJ an ' _are you fucking serious??_ ' stare.

“He just _assaulted_ you, Em! You told me yourself he committed statutory rape and he has a history of preying on young girls. He needs to be behind bars.”

“I can't...” Emily insisted weakly. “Jayje, I just... I can't.”

“Em...”

“Ian is my _only_ shot at making it to the Olympics – I can't start over with a new trainer. It's just for a little while longer and then I never have to deal with him again,” Emily said, nearly begging her to understand. “It's just for a few more months.”

“And what about the next girl?” JJ pressed. “The next young gymnast he takes a liking to? You can stop him before that ever happens.”

“I don't know,” she wavered. “That means police and lawyers and _court_... What if no one believes me? What if everyone thinks I'm just a slut?”

“Legally, you were a _child_ when he met you, Em. He took advantage of you because he knew he had power over you – that's what a predator does. You can't let him get away with that,” JJ urged.

“What about my mother?” Emily asked. “She'd never let me go through with that – she'd die of embarrassment. And what about Derek? He already hates me...”

“Em,” JJ whispered, “You know you have to do the right thing. Just look at your neck – you could have died today.”

She heaved a sigh. “I'm scared,” she murmured.

“I know, Em, I know.”


	30. Chapter 30

“A beer,” Derek ordered, flagging down the bartender as he lifted himself onto one of the barstools. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

The bar was relatively dead this early in the afternoon, which suited him just fine. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone – what he wanted was to wallow in alcohol and self-pity until he couldn't remember his own name, let alone the way Emily had stomped all over his heart.

“A beer?” the bartender repeated skeptically. “How old are you, kid?”

He flicked his fake ID onto the bar with a clatter of plastic against the polished wood surface. It was a _good_ fake – it had better be for the price he'd paid – so it should hold up to the bartender's intense scrutiny.

He'd gotten the fake a couple of months ago from one of Emily's friends – a guy named Clyde Easter – but he hadn't used it until now, too worried about being found out. Even today, he'd taken two buses to get to the other side of the city so he'd be far enough away from campus that no one would recognize him and out him for barely being old enough to drive a car. Part of him was still worried that word would somehow get back to his coach or, God forbid, his mother...but he was willing to take that chance today.

Eventually, the bartender seemed to decide his ID to be legitimate, pulling him a pint from the tap and setting it in front of him, sending some of the foamy head sliding down the sides of the glass. “So, what is it?” he asked vaguely, leaning against the bar.

“Hmm?”

“The reason you're drowning your sorrows at three in the afternoon...”

“It's nothing,” Derek said darkly, staring at the beer with intensity that could have shattered glass.

The bartender nodded knowingly. “Ah. Girl troubles.”

Derek looked up sharply, one brow raised in silent question.

“Let's just say I'm familiar with the face of a broken man. After three divorces, you tend to recognize the look,” he explained.

“ _Three_ divorces?” Derek repeated incredulously. “I'm not sure you're qualified to be giving advice about women...”

The bartender laughed heartily, then offered Derek a hand to shake. “Dave Rossi,” he introduced himself.

He furrowed his brow in thought. “Dave Rossi the mob guy?” he asked

“Hey now,” Dave said, holding up his hands in self defense. “That's just a rumour. And if I catch you spreading it, you'll wear cement shoes...” He winked to show he was only kidding. “So, what's the story with this girlfriend of yours?”

“She's not my girlfriend anymore,” Derek corrected bitterly. He shook his head, sighed. “I thought I was going to marry her,” he lamented. “Then I found out she'd been engaged to this other guy the whole time...”

Dave nodded sagely. “But you still love her...” he said. It wasn't a question.

“She says she never loved him and I'd like to believe her, but...” He trailed off, shook his head.

“But you don't want to be burned a second time,” Dave finished his thought.

Derek sighed. “What do I do, man?” he asked. He wasn't sure whether he was hoping his advice would be to forgive her or forget her...

“You want the honest answer?” Dave asked.

He shrugged, really not certain either way.

“You've got to decide whether what you had together is worth fighting for,” he said simply. “Relationships aren't like in sitcoms. You'll both fuck up, but sometimes you've got to love them because they fucked up, not in spite of it.”

Derek mulled that over for a moment, finger tracing patterns in the condensation pooling on the bar. “Did you ever love anyone that much?” he asked quietly. “When you first saw them you knew you'd love them for the rest of your life?”

“Once,” he answered, gaze becoming far off and wistful. “Her name was Emma... We never quite got the timing right, but God...” He didn't seem to know how to finish that sentence. “I loved her more than anything.”

“So, you think I should forgive her?”

Dave shrugged. “But what do I know? The only people I've ever made happy are divorce lawyers.”

Derek snorted in amusement. “Thanks, man.” He stood, reaching for his wallet. “So, what do I owe you for the beer?”

“It's on the house,” Dave said. “Considering you didn't drink a drop of it...” He waited until Derek had his hand on the door handle to speak up again, “And hey, kid... Good luck at the Olympics.”

Derek turned around, eyes wide. “How did you...?”

He just smirked back at him, but said nothing.

...

“Hey, man, where have you been?”

“Out,” Derek grunted in response to Matt's question because he certainly wasn't about to confess where he'd actually been knowing Matt would tell Kristy who would tell Savannah and so on...until half the school knew.

“Well, _duh_ ,” Matt said with a roll of his eyes, but didn't comment further sensing Derek's obviously sour mood.

Thankful for the lack of questioning, Derek crossed the room to his desk, catching sight of the picture frame holding a picture taken on his first date with Emily – she was smiling brightly at the camera, caught in a moment of laughter, while he was staring at her like she was his whole entire world. Part of him was tempted to tear the picture to shreds, to obliterate it the way he wished he could do with all the memories of her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

As he set the frame back down, he caught sight of an unfamiliar envelope sitting on top of the pile of unfinished homework. “What's this?” he asked, holding it up so Matt could see.

Matt shrugged. “It was slipped under the door when I got here,” he said, “It's got your name on it.”

Sure enough, when he flipped it over, his name was scrawled across it in Emily's unmistakable handwriting. Opening it up, in spite of the spiteful little part of him that was tempted to just throw the whole thing away unread, he tipped the contents into his palm: a dried flower and a small notecard.

The flower he recognized as being from the bouquet he'd brought her for their first date. On the notecard was written the following: _A step backward after making a wrong turn is a step in the right direction_.


	31. Chapter 31

Laundry basket against one hip, Emily moved through the dorm room collecting dirty leotards strewn about the floor. (How she had managed to accumulate so much laundry in the time she'd been back on campus, she didn't know.)

She stooped down to pick up the sweatshirt she'd stolen from Derek, feeling a twinge in her chest – regret and heartache swelling up until she couldn't breathe. She brought the fabric to her nose, inhaling deeply, his cologne still lingering.

In that moment, the door swung open, JJ loudly announcing her presence by declaring, “Look who I found lurking outside...”

Derek stepped into the room after her with an awkward little wave. “I was, umm, just trying to work up the courage to knock,” he admitted.

Emily dropped the hand holding his sweater. “I was just...doing laundry.”

“Can we talk?” Derek asked, determinedly avoiding eye contact. JJ made a little squeak of interest at the obviously laden question, prompting Derek to add, “ _Alone_...”

“Let's go to the laundry room,” Emily suggested, giving JJ a pointed look.

...

Emily turned on the washing machine, then turned back to Derek. “Okay, go ahead...you can yell at me now.”

“Yell at you?”

“Yeah...” she shrugged. “I assume that's why you're here.”

“Oh, Em...” He sighed. “No, that's not... That's not why I'm here.” He leaned back against one of the dryers, crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously keeping distance between them.

“Really?” She arched a brow in surprise. “Then why?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I'm not sure. I guess I just needed to hear your side of the story.”

Her tongue flicked out over her lip. “What changed your mind?”

“Dave Rossi.”

“The mob guy?” she asked incredulously. She shook her head then. “Nevermind. So, what do you want to know?”

“Was he telling the truth?” he asked. “Were you engaged?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Yes.” Then, seeing the way his expression hardened, she rushed to explain, “You have to understand though... I didn't _want_ to be – he gave me the ring without asking me what I wanted, just expecting that I'd say yes. It wasn't that he loved me, I think, but that he wanted to possess me.”

“Why were you even with him in the first place?”

“I wish I could explain it...” She unconsciously chewed at a thumbnail. “When we met, I was thirteen – I'd spent the last half dozen years travelling across Europe to get the best training possible, I had no friends, no support, I was practically alone. And Ian, he _cared_ about me. At least, I thought he did. Little by little, his friendliness turned into...something _more_. I could have stopped it, but it was so nice to have someone actually care about me.”

“I cared about you, Em,” Derek whispered.

“I know. And you helped me realize that what I had with Ian was...different. _Wrong_. But a little part of me – that lonely little thirteen year old part – still needed him to love me. I know that doesn't make any sense, but...” She shook her head.

“Wait,” Derek said suddenly. “You were _thirteen_? But that would... I mean, did you two...?” He gestured vaguely.

She nodded, blinked back tears. She couldn't meet his gaze, staring at the floor as she scuffed the toe of her sneaker across the linoleum.

“That son of a bitch raped you?” he demanded.

“Derek, please,” she urged, “Not so loud!”

“I'll fucking kill him!” he growled. “I'll _kill_ that bastard for what he did to you!”

“No!” she cried, forcibly stopping his forward momentum with both hands on his chest. “You can't!”

“He can't just get away with it!”

“You have to let me do this, okay?” she begged. “I'll handle it – just...when I'm ready. Please, just trust me?”

For a moment, he seemed to debate whether he did trust her anymore, but eventually nodded once. “So, I guess this makes me a jerk, huh?”

“You had every right to break up with me,” she insisted, even if her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I deserve every awful thing you've thought or said about me and I wouldn't blame you if you never want to speak to me again.”

“Yet here I am...” he said, pointing out the obvious with a timid little shrug.

“Yeah,” she agreed, teeth scraping across her bottom lip to hide her smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Anytime.” She had no doubt that he truly meant that.

A silence fell over the laundry room then, but for the humming of the washing machine, the tumble of clothes in the dryer. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, merely one that came of being unsure of their newfound footing. They took turns trying to say something, but unable to find any words that seemed quite right.

Finally, Emily let words come tumbling out without stopping to edit her thoughts. “I... I-I've missed you,” she admitted, keeping her eyes locked on the spin of clothing in the washer.

“I know the feeling,” he echoed, voice not quite a whisper.

She seemed surprise by his admission, but didn't say so. “Derek...” she started, stopped. “Do you want... Would it be asking too much...? I mean...”

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, laughing a little at her obvious tongue-tied awkwardness. It was all too easy to let himself get carried away by how _easy_ things were between them, even as they tried to rebuild what they'd had with the ruins she'd made.

“Would you like to...do something one night? Like _together_?”

“Such as?” he prompted.

“Umm...dinner and a movie maybe?” She gestured vaguely, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.

“You mean like a date?” he asked, not wanting to get his hopes up (even if they were already sky high).

“Let's say an opportunity for reconciliation,” she rephrased. “Sound good?”

“Good enough.”

“Good enough,” she repeated, smiling shyly. “Cool. How about Wednesday?” she proposed. “My mother's out of the country until Friday, so we'd have the house to ourselves...to talk. I mean, if that's not too presumptuous of me.”

Unsure what to say, he gave her a comforting smile and nodded, brief, but sincere.

She gave an uncharacteristic giggle, cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment.

Derek just smiled and shook his head. “You're cute when you're awkward,” he informed her.

“I'm always awkward,” she replied, brow raised.

“I know.” He winked, then turned and bounded out of the laundry room, a new spring in his step.


	32. Chapter 32

“OMG! Okay, so you guys are never going to believe what happened to me!” Penelope trilled to the camera, clapping her hands together excitedly. “So, you probably all know that I've had kind of a major crush on one Derek Morgan for basically ever...”

“You what?” came a muffled voice from off-screen, the camera shaking with its operator's movement.

“Hush, my love,” Penelope commanded, waving away the voice's concern. “ _Anyway_... So, I was getting coffee one day and who did I miraculously happen to run into, but _The_ sculpted God of Chocolate Thunder: Derek Morgan himself!”

“You know, Plum Sauce, you could sound a little less excited,” the voice protested again.

“Kevin, you're interrupting,” she sing-songed. “As I was saying,” she said pointedly, “After I was done freaking out – you know, sweating, squeaking, and hyperventilating...the whole deal – I managed to say hi. Well, actually, I kind of screamed it at him. But he was super nice about it and we got to talking and...” She made a high-pitched squeal of excitement. “He agreed to come on the show!”

“Hey, Baby Girl,” Derek greeted, coming into the frame, flashing his signature million watt smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

She sighed dreamily as she wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug, squeezing him tightly. “Isn't he just the cutest?” she asked her viewers.

“You're not so bad yourself,” he replied, winking.

She giggled. “And we are here at the track today because he's going to show us the workout that created those legendary incredible abs.”

“Well, I don't know about that, but it'll really get your heart rate up.”

“ _You_ get my heart rate up,” she flirted.

“Pen...” Kevin whined petulantly.

...

Flopping to the grass, panting heavily, Penelope pouted, whined, “I thought you were going to go easy on me...”

“Not a chance, Baby Girl,” he said, “You wanted a workout, you got a workout... We've still got a two mile run to do.”

“ _Two miles_!?” She shook her head insistently. “I didn't say _I_ wanted to work out! I sit on my perfect posterior all day. This is for the _viewers_ who are more physically inclined.”

He chuckled, settled down next to her on the grass, elbowing her playfully. “I'm just messing with you. This was just a good time for me.”

Pushing herself to sit up, Penelope fixed him with a mischievous smirk. “So... Is there anyone _special_ in your life?”

“Hey,” Derek protested, “I thought this was a workout video?”

“Come for the workout, stay for the gossip,” she said with a shrug and a coy smile. “So, spill.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Nu-uh.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes, staring at him inquisitively, then turned to the camera. “Is he blushing? I think he's blushing... There's _totally_ someone! Who is it?” Her eyes went wide. “OMG is it another athlete? I smell a power couple!”

He shook his head, mimed zipping his lips. “Keep this up and you'll be running _three_ miles...”

“Oh!” she said in a whoosh of air. “I know! It's that total babe you did the commercial with! I _knew_ it! You two had _way_ too much chemistry not to be doing the horizontal tango...”

“Hey, Nosy Rosie,” he scolded, shaking his head. “You're going to get me in trouble with my mama if you keep talking like that...”

She held her hands up in self-defence. “Okay, okay, I'm sure you're a perfect gentleman. But you _are_ dating her?”

He sighed, but was unable to hide his smile at the mention of Emily. “Yeah. She's everything to me.”

“That's _so_ cute,” she cooed. “I totally ship it.” Then, turning back to the camera, she proudly announced to Kevin, “What did I tell you? You owe me twenty bucks...”

...

“Hey, you...” Emily said, smiling shyly as she pushed the door open. She winced, then, wishing she'd said something a little less awkward.

For a few moments, he stood there in silence, gaping at her. “I, umm... Wow,” he stammered. “I mean, hi. You look amazing.”

She felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. She glanced down at the skin-tight red fabric of her dress, brushing away an imaginary piece of lint. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She timidly brushed a lock of perfectly curled hair behind her ear.

“I didn't know we were going somewhere fancy or I would have dressed up too,” he said, suddenly feeling underdressed in just his jeans and a t-shirt.

“Oh, we're just staying here,” she rushed to assure him. “I just figured that since this was kind of a second chance at first impressions, I'd try to make a good one.”

He laughed a little. “I think if we're keeping track it's at least the third attempt...” The look she shot him was decidedly unamused, so he backtracked, “Don't get me wrong, I _really_ appreciate the effort – I've never seen you wear anything so...suggestive.”

It was her turn to laugh. “ _Suggestive_?” she repeated. “What are you, eighty?

“How dare you!” he said as if scandalized. “I'm a _gentleman_!”

She snorted. “Whatever.”

He startled her then by wrapping her in an embrace. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed holding her until that very moment. He didn't voice it, but the feeling in his chest in that moment felt a lot like he was meant to spend a lifetime with her in his arms.

Releasing her, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his display of emotion, he asked, “So, what's the plan for tonight? I hope you're going to go easy on me...”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “That's right, you really exerted yourself today. Got yourself a little stan...”

“What the hell is a _stan_?”

“Like a really hardcore fangirl...”

“ _Oh_...you mean Penelope,” he said, understanding dawning on him. “You saw that, huh?”

“JJ texted me the link,” she said, studiously watching his expression. “This girl you talked about – the one who's your 'everything'...” she prompted. “She must be pretty special.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah, she's incredible. I can't imagine my life without her.”


	33. Chapter 33

Emily straddled Derek's lap, tightly gripping his shirt as his lips travelled down her neck. “We could...” she panted, “We could turn off the movie...”

He laughed and she could feel the vibrations against her skin. “Why? You got something else planned, Princess?”

“I want you...” she husked, tipping his chin up so she could kiss him properly.

He hummed into the kiss. “Is that so?” he asked.

She nodded, hips bucking up against his, putting pressure on his growing hard on. “So, let's turn off the TV and go upstairs.”

He seemed to doubt himself, then, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure about this?”

“ _Very_ ,” she insisted, grinning mischievously. She leaned in for another kiss, but he pulled back. She frowned. “Why? Don't you want me?”

“Of course, I do, Princess – more than anything.”

“Then what's wrong?” she asked.

“It's just...” He leaned in to nuzzle her nose sweetly. “We've only just started over and I don't want to rush into anything or pressure you or – I don't know – jinx this, I guess. I want this – _us_ – to be solid, to last. I don't want this to be a mistake.” He kissed her chastely in apology.

“Derek...” She affixed him with a stern expression. “You'll be making a mistake if you _don't_ shut up and kiss me.” He still looked a little unsure, so she murmured, “I'm _sure_. I want to do this.”

“Good.” He pulled her in for a passionate kiss, one hand tangling in her hair, the other sliding along her thigh, up under her skirt.

“Upstairs?” she suggested.

In answer, he flipped them so she was laying back on the couch with him hovering over her, making her squeal in surprise. She giggled as he latched his lips on her collarbone before gradually trailing downwards until he hit the neckline of her dress where he hesitated.

“It's okay,” she reassured him with a tender smile. As if to prove it to him, she slipped the straps down her shoulders, giving him the chance to tug the dress down to expose her breasts.

He accepted the invitation, pulling her dress down until it pooled around her waist, leaving her chest clad only in a lacy red bra. For a moment, he tried not to stare, feeling lecherous almost, even though she'd given him permission.

His hesitation only lasted a moment, though, before she twined her fingers with his, bringing his hand up to cup one of her breasts. Emboldened by her encouragement, he took the lead, brushing a thumb across her nipple, making her gasp his name and she was forced to release her grip on his hand to steady herself.

Hearing his name fall from her lips in the heat of the moment instantly became his favourite sound and he wanted nothing more than to hear it over and over again for the rest of his life.

He went to work on the clasp of her bra, eager to expose more of her tender flesh. Seemingly having the same idea, she tugged at the hem of his shirt – the task made significantly more difficult by the way his lips were travelling ever downwards along the column of her throat.

Sensing her impatience, he laughed and reached down to remove his shirt for her and, in the process, his elbow bumped into a nearby vase, sending it crashing down to the floor.

“My mother loved that...” Emily remarked, staring at the shards.

“I am _so_ sorry...” he started apologizing profusely, afraid that he may have ruined the moment with his clumsiness.

“I think I like you even more now,” she interrupted, eyes sparkling with mischief.

His lips once again crashed down on hers as he worked to tug her dress down over her hips, leaving her in nothing but her lacy red panties.

Before he could remove those, though, she managed to ask, words interspersed with kisses, “Do you... Do you have a...you know...protection?”

He nodded, reaching for the back pocket of his jeans to pull out his wallet. “What?” he asked, noticing her raised brow.

“You came prepared, huh?” she teased.

“No, it's not like that...” he rushed to explain, using the momentary pause to shuck off his pants and boxer-briefs. “It's just...”

She shook her head, smiling. “Relax, I'm only kidding. I'd rather you come prepared than not at all...” She winked at him at the double entendre. As he rolled on the condom, she slid off her panties and slipped two fingers inside herself, pumping them slowly in and out.

Derek hummed appreciatively, pausing to watch. “Starting without me, Princess?” he asked with a mock pout.

“Just getting myself ready for you,” she husked. “It's been awhile...” she added shyly.

He moved to kneel on either side of her hips, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist to stop her movement. “I'll be gentle,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

She smiled up at him. “I trust you. Now, shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma'am.”

...

As they basked in the afterglow, limbs tangled together, he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. She tipped her chin up to smile at him and kiss him properly. “You good?” she murmured against his lips.

“Better than good,” he assured her. “I know this going to sound cheesy and cliche because of...what we just did, but... God, Em, I love you. And I know you just got out of a big relationship and it's going to take some time.” He shook his head, realizing he was rambling. “You mean the world to me and I don't want you to doubt that for even a second.”

“I never have,” she promised. “You're not exactly subtle.”

“Hey,” he said with a pout. “I just said something really nice and you're teasing me?”

She laughed. “I'm just messing with you. You know I love you too, right?”

“Of course you do.”

She gently punched him in the shoulder. “You're an ass.”

“But I'm _your_ ass.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Okay, seriously, what's up with you these last few days?” Tsia called out from the little en suite bathroom where she was slicking her hair back in a flawless ponytail.

“Nothing's _up_ ,” Emily refuted. “I don't know what you're talking about.” She was seated at her desk with her make up mirror open in front of her, applying a layer of foundation.

The two of them had taken over Emily and JJ's dorm room to get ready for the team photos being taken that day. JJ had scoffed as they'd opened their theatre cases of stage make up and joked about how no sport should require so many cosmetics. Emily had given her the finger and shoved her out of the room while JJ cackled.

“You're a fucking horrible liar, you know that?” Tsia insisted, poking her head out of the bathroom to fix her with a pointed look. “I've seen you smile more in the past week than the entire time I've known you...”

“Is there a law against being happy?” she retorted without looking away from the mirror.

Tsia rolled her eyes, returning to the bathroom to tame all the fly-away hairs with gel. “Besides,” she called out again, “Chloe spends all day trying to provoke you and it's like you barely even notice anymore.”

“It's called being _mature_.”

She snorted. “Yeah fucking right.” Hair finished, she marched back into the dorm room, hands on her hips, determined to get an answer no matter how many sarcastic remarks Emily fired back at her. “What's his name?” she demanded.

Emily let out an irritated sigh, but relented, “Derek.” She couldn't help the little smile playing about her lips at the mention of his name, though she tried to disguise it as she applied a light blush to her cheeks.

“Derek _Morgan_? I fucking _knew_ it!” she crowed triumphantly. She elbowed Emily lightly out of the way of the make up mirror to fix her lipstick. “What about Coach's 'no dating' rule?”

“Just don't fucking tell him,” Emily said. “I'm already hanging onto my spot on the team by the skin of my teeth...”

“You're the best one on the team, he's not going to kick you out,” Tsia insisted as if it were common knowledge and Emily certainly wasn't about to argue and admit to why that wasn't exactly true. “Are you done?” she continued, ignoring Emily's skeptical expression. “We're going to be late for the team pictures if you don't hurry up and finish putting on your face.”

“You're such a bitch... Why am I friends with you?” Emily muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, making her bark out a laugh.

...

In Emily's opinion, the only good thing about team photos was that they got to wear their official competition leotards for the first time...

It wasted most a day that could be spent training and half of the girls they were taking pictures of wouldn't even make it to the Olympics. (Not that she should be complaining because she wasn't all that sure she was going to make it either...)

Either way, she smiled for her headshots like her life depended on it. (Though she'd never admit it out loud, she had to thank her mother for ensuring she had plenty of practice smiling for the camera, even if she'd rather be anywhere else.)

The photographer, at least, seemed to love her – even if Ian was obviously less than pleased by her continued presence.

By the time she was done, her cheeks hurt from smiling and she had seven texts from Derek waiting for her when she checked her phone. (He'd become obsessed with the idea of them getting matching tattoos and had spent the last day and a half texting her ideas in the hopes of convincing her.)

“Dammit,” Ian muttered under his breath, glancing down at his watch. “Where's Donaghy?”

“I think I saw her in the dressing room, Coach,” one of the other gymnasts called out from her spot on the mat where she was stretching.

Muttering another curse, Ian glanced about the gym, lips pursed together, displeased. “Prentiss!” he barked out, eyes landing on her where she was smiling down at her phone.

She glanced up, one brow raised, not quite in challenge, but not entirely respectful either. “Yes, Coach?” she asked.

“Go to the dressing room and get Donaghy out here,” he demanded.

Emily scowled. He could have chosen anyone on the team to get Chloe, but he'd deliberately chosen her, knowing full well the bitter rivalry simmering between them. She heaved an irritated sigh, but decided against arguing.

“Chloe!” she snapped, slamming the door to the dressing room behind her. “What's the fucking hold up?”

From one of the bathroom stalls there came the retching sound of someone puking their guts out.

“Chloe?” Emily said again, cautious, curious. “Are you...okay?”

“Fuck off, Prentiss,” Chloe snapped.

She rolled her eyes. So much for extending an olive branch. “You're up next for pictures,” she told her, “Coach says to get your ass out there.”

Chloe emerged from the stall then and, without looking at Emily, she went straight to the mirror, examining her face for flaws in her make up like she hadn't just been throwing up.

Emily watched her curiously, brow furrowing the longer she stared. She let out a sudden gasp. “Are you... Are you _pregnant_!?” she hissed.

Chloe rounded on her, gaze absolutely frosty. “I have _food poisoning_ , obviously,” she said archly.

Emily wasn't buying it, though... Her perfect gymnast body – flat stomach, flat chest, narrow hips – was looking markedly less _flat_. “You fucking _are_!” Emily insisted.

The look on Chloe's faced looked like she'd very much like to slap her across the face, but wasn't about to risk everything by assaulting her. “If you tell _anyone_ , I swear to God, I will make you regret it,” she growled. “I will tell _everyone_ you fucked Ian...”

She opened her mouth to argue, but could only make a strangled noise of protest.

“Good,” she said, with false pleasantry. “So, we're in agreement.” And, with that, she marched out of the dressing room as if nothing of life-ruining portent had just happened.


	35. Chapter 35

Emily lay propped up in bed, laptop balanced on her knees. Technically, she was supposed to be writing an essay for World Literature on _The Stranger_ , but was instead looking at tattoo ideas on Pinterest (damn you, Derek Morgan...).

The door swung open and, without glancing up, she greeted, “Hey, Jajye, how was...” But before she could finish the sentence, something smacked the side of her head. “Hey!” she cried out. “What the hell was that for?”

“Umm, _you're welcome_ ,” she scoffed teasingly. “I stopped by the drug store – you're out of tampons,” she explained at Emily's continuing dubious look.

“Oh...” she said slowly, mind suddenly reeling. “Thanks.”

JJ plopped down on the foot of Emily's bed. “You look like you've seen a ghost...”

Emily plastered on a smile that she hoped wasn't as transparent as it felt. “It's nothing,” she insisted. Then, she changed the subject, “Can you keep a secret?”

“What did you do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not _me_... This is _real_ gossip.”

JJ's expression instantly brightened. “Spill the tea!”

“Chloe's pregnant!” she burst out.

“Are you fucking serious!?” Suddenly, her expression fell. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well... I mean...” JJ stammered. “It's got to be _his_ , right?”

Right. _That_. “She can fucking have him. They deserve each other.”

For a few moments, JJ continued to stare at her skeptically, finding it hard to believe she was as okay with the situation as she said she was, considering she'd been _engaged_ to the man until recently... Of course, she knew better than to push Emily when she wasn't in the mood to talk about something. “Well, then this is good news, right?”

“How do you figure?”

“She can hardly compete with a big belly, right? She won't be able to throw stunts and balance and shit when she's like six months pregnant...” she pointed out.

She hadn't thought of it like that...

But she was finding it difficult to be as excited as the situation called for, though, a little voice at the back of her mind reminding her that she should have started her period two days ago...

...

“So, Emily,” Fran Morgan started pleasantly, “Do you want a big family?”

Emily nearly choked on the drink she'd just taken a sip of, coughing and sputtering as she tried not to spit it everywhere. Eyes wide and alarmed, she gave a high-pitched little laugh. “I hadn't really considered it – you know, being sixteen and all...”

“ _Mama_ ,” Derek hissed. “You promised!”

Fran held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, Dear, I couldn't help it. You know I want grandbabies and if she's going to be part of the family someday...”

“Mama!” he whined. “No one said anything about marriage and kids – you're going to scare her!”

“If she's smelled your rugby gear and hasn't run screaming for the hills yet, she obviously doesn't scare all that easily,” she teased her son, making him roll her eyes.

Emily stared down at her plate, pushing the food Fran had so lovingly prepared around with her fork, appetite suddenly gone.

“Did you come from a big family, Emily?” Fran resumed her questioning.

Looking up sharply after a few moments of silence, Emily stared blankly, realizing she'd been asked a question. “Oh, umm... No. It was just me and Mother. My dad left when I was five and Mother immediately moved us to Texas so I could train at Karolyi Ranch.”

Fran's face fell. “Oh, Dear, that's so sad,” she murmured. “It's nice that you're so close with your mother, at least.”

Emily gave a snort that was decidedly unamused. “I wouldn't call us 'close' exactly – she's always been more concerned with whether my career is profitable than whether I'm actually normal or well-adjusted or _happy_...”

Derek shot his mother a warning look, desperately begging her not to say anything to make this worse.

“Are you?” Fran asked gently.

“Hmm?”

“Happy...”

She caught Derek's eye then and he offered her a smile filled with so much love that her heart clenched. “Yeah,” she murmured, more to him than to Fran. “Yeah, I think I am.”

And, before Fran could further continue her interrogation, Derek stood suddenly from the table and kissed his mother's cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Mama – delicious as usual – but Emily and I have translations to finish for Monday.”

“Oh – are you sure? Emily barely ate anything...” Fran started to protest.

Emily offered a grateful smile. “It was wonderful, Mrs. Morgan. I'm not very hungry. I really appreciate the home-cooked meal, though. You don't know how long it's been since someone cooked for me...”

“Well, I made a peach cobbler for dessert, I hope you saved room.” Then, as an afterthought, “Please, Dear, call me Fran.”

Emily smiled warmly. “Nothing in the world gets between me and peach cobbler.

In a stage whisper, Derek added, “Believe that, Mama – everyone says gymnasts eat like rabbits, but I've seen this girl pack it away like a starving...”

“Derek, do not finish that sentence if you cherish your life...” Fran warned him.

...

“What _was_ the end of that sentence?” Emily asked, head cocked as the door to his bedroom closed behind them.

He held up his hands in self-defence. “I'm gonna trust Mama's advice on this one and plead the fifth.”

She gave a snort of laughter. “You're such an ass.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling into her neck and pressing a kiss there. “But you love me anyway, right?”

“I guess.”

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling through his chest against her back. His lips travelled up her neck to behind her ear, making her shiver.

“Derek...” she said warningly. “Come on, stop it.”

“Why?” he taunted. “Worried about competing with all the other girls I've brought up here?”

“No, but I am suddenly tempted to kick you in the balls...” she threatened playfully.

“Hey, now...” He pouted. “I thought you loved them...”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see. “Your mother is downstairs, I'm not risking her walking in on us making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

“But we are...”

“Speak for yourself.”

“What if I promise to keep my hands where you can see them?” he wheedled. He spun her around so she was facing him, his hands on her hips, wandering ever higher.

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “You're incorrigible,” she muttered. But she was having a difficult time resisting his adorable pout. “Fine,” she conceded. “But second base _only_.”

He just grinned, entirely too cocky now that he'd won.


	36. Chapter 36

Emily fidgeted on the exam table, playing with a loose thread on her oversized sweater as she stared at the anatomical posters on the wall with complex titles like _Segmental Spinal Cord Level and Function and Topographic and Functional Anatomy of the Spinal Cord_. (She'd never been more glad she was an athlete and didn't have to understand what any of those words meant...)

Dr. Blake came sweeping into the room with a cheerful smile and a folder full of x-rays. “Good morning, Emily,” she greeted. “Nice to be seeing you under better circumstances.”

She gave a polite laugh – ordinarily, she might have appreciated the joke, except it didn't exactly feel like better circumstances, all things considered...

If Alex noticed how hollow her laugh seemed, she decided not to comment on it, for which Emily was extremely grateful. “How has your neck been feeling?” she asked. “Any pain or stiffness?”

Emily shook her head. It was her first follow-up appointment since she'd returned to full-time training and it was important to ensure that she wasn't doing potentially irreversible damage by forcing extreme and unnecessary movement.

Alex nodded, pleased. “Have you been keeping up with the exercises prescribed by your physiotherapist?”

“Twice a day,” she replied.

“That's good, Emily,” Alex praised. “You've taken your recovery very seriously. I'm glad to see that.”

To be honest, the physiotherapist could have asked her to stand head and if she'd thought it stood any chance of helping her recover, she would have done it. She didn't say that though. What she did say was, “Gymnastics is my life – I needed to recover as quickly as possible if I had any hope of making it to the Olympics.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “You're not pushing yourself too hard, though? It's all too easy to re-injure yourself when the bone is still healing...”

Emily offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I listen to my body,” she promised. “If anything feels off, I stop.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer. She turned to the lightboard and held up her old x-rays. “These are the original x-rays we took the day of your injury,” she explained, pointing out the obvious fracture. “I'd like to take a new set today so we can see how the fracture is healing.”

Emily made a little squeak of protest and immediately tried to cover the sound with a cough.

Alex raised a brow at the odd reaction. “Is there a problem?” she asked gently.

She cleared her throat once, twice, couldn't meet the doctor's gaze. “I, umm... There's a chance... I mean, I might be...pregnant,” she rambled, the last word coming out barely audible.

“Ah,” Alex said quietly, without judgement.

“I know, I know,” Emily continued before she could say anything more. “It's stupid – how do you end up accidentally pregnant in this day and age, right?”

“Emily, I wasn't judging you,” Alex assured her.

But she apparently wasn't listening. “We _did_ use protection, I swear, it just failed, I guess.” She shook her head, scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “This is the universe punishing me...”

“Emily, this isn't some kind of cosmic discipline,” Alex insisted. “The universe doesn't work like that. Condoms fail up to fourteen percent of the time.”

Emily gave a watery little laugh that contained no humour.

“Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?” Alex asked.

She shook her head. “I couldn't risk anyone seeing me – my mother would find out and she'd _kill_ me. Then bring me back to life and kill me again.”

She nodded. “You know I'm bound by patient confidentiality, right?” she said, almost apropos of nothing. When Emily nodded, she continued, “Would you like me to do a blood test?”

Emily nodded eagerly.

...

Emily balanced the baby on her hip, bouncing him up and down lightly. “You are so freaking cute!” she cooed to him, “Yes, you are!”

Beth laughed. “He's a peach, isn't he?” She picked a blanket up out of the stroller the baby had until recently inhabited, offering the blanket to Emily who proceeded to cover the baby's back with it.

“What's his name?” She'd crossed paths with Beth on her way back from the doctor's and, out of some kind of perverse curiosity, she'd felt compelled to hold the baby. She needed to _know_ – though, what exactly it was she needed to know, she wasn't entirely certain.

“Jack. He's my boyfriend's son.” At Emily's quizzical expression, she explained, “He was widowed shortly after Jack was born.”

Emily's face fell. “That's terrible.” She tweaked the baby's tiny nose, offered him a smile. “At least he won't remember losing her...”

Beth nodded. “Aaron does his best to make sure he remembers her, but it's hard at this age.”

Sensing the subject was rather sensitive, she changed the subject, asking, “So, you're on babysitting duty?”

“Assuming you don't kidnap him first,” Beth teased. “I didn't realize you were such a big fan of kids...”

“Oh, I, umm...” She cleared her throat. “Not really, no.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I never exactly liked kids, either, but... I don't know, something about holding this little guy makes your biological clock tick.”

Emily gave a strangled little laugh that verged on hysterical.

Beth raised a brow. “Something wrong? Are... Are you...?”

“Don't say it,” Emily begged. “I can't handle hearing anyone say the actual words.”

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

“I will be,” she said, struggling to hold back a sniffle. The baby started fussing in her arms and she resumed her gentle bouncing. “Shhh,” she soothed. “It's okay, sweetie.”

Beth smiled softly. “You're a natural – you'd be a great mother.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment, Derek came jogging up. “Hey, Princess,” he greeted brightly, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Who's the tyke?”

“My boyfriend's,” Beth explained with a quick cautious glance at Emily. “He got called away on some legal emergency, so I'm babysitting until he's done.”

“Can I?” he asked, extending his hands to take the baby, smiling as Emily handed him over. “Hey there, little man.” He proceeded to babble to the baby, the biggest grin on his face.

Emily knew then that if she was pregnant, he'd want to keep it...and she wasn't sure she could do that.


	37. Chapter 37

Pro: She couldn't compete in the Olympics pregnant.

Con: She _did_ want children...

Pro: ...Just not right now.

Con: What if this was her only chance at having a baby?

Pro: She had no fucking clue how to be a mother.

Con: Derek, on the other hand, seemed to have no such issues.

Pro: The were both _teenagers_.

Con: Teenagers who loved each other...

Pro: Teenagers who might never get another shot at the Olympics.

Therein lay the crux of the problem. If they'd met in any other circumstances – hell, even a few months later – this wouldn't even be an issue. Or at least not such a big one.

But she couldn't exactly chance things now. All she could do was try to repair the damage.

Dr. Blake had suggested she speak with Derek about it, but she didn't know how she could possibly ask what he wanted when she didn't even know what _she_ wanted.

Or, rather, she knew what she wanted, but wasn't entirely sure he'd like that answer.

Because the truth was, the Olympics meant everything to her – she was _this_ close, she couldn't imagine sacrificing that. She just couldn't have a baby. Not now.

Heaving a sigh, she tossed a the notepad and pen aside, scrubbing her hands through her dishevelled hair. She'd thought making a list of the pros and cons of abortion would help clear up the mess that was her thought process, but it only seemed to be getting more convoluted the more she dwelled on the matter.

Truthfully, she probably _should_ have asked for Derek's help since it was just as much his problem as hers. But she was fucking _terrified_ of telling him she didn't want to keep the baby and hearing him say he didn't love her anymore.

(She didn't really think he'd say that, but she didn't want to take that chance.)

Beside her, her phone buzzed. It was Derek. Again. He'd been texting her all evening – at first it had been flirtatious and joking about coming over while JJ was out. Then, when she hadn't responded in kind, his texts had gradually gotten more concerned. She'd kind of hoped he hadn't noticed how weird she'd been acting the past few days, but evidentally, she wasn't that lucky.

His latest message was, **“Are you sure you're okay? You haven't been yourself lately...”** It was followed almost immediately but a second message, **“Do you want to talk?”**

**“Not tonight,”** she replied, probably a bit too brusquely.

**“Do you want to break up with me?”** he texted after a long pause. She knew he was serious by the lack of accompanying emoji.

She responded almost at once lest he interpret a slow response as reluctance. **“No, Derek! Of course not! Not now, not ever!”**

There was a knock at the door then and she threw up her hands in exasperation. Apparently, she was destined not to have a moment of peace that evening. “What?” she demanded, throwing the door open.

Derek was standing on the other side and immediately swept her up into his arms as she opened the door, holding her like his life depended on it.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she choked out from the depths of his tight embrace.

“I just thought you really needed that,” he murmured into her hair. “You haven't been yourself lately and I know you said it was nothing to be concerned about, but I can't help it – I love you.”

She pulled back, smiling softly up at him, and kissing him quickly. “You're really sweet, but I promise...”

Before she could brush off his concern again, he said gently, “Em, I know you're used to going it alone, never trusting people, but I promise you whatever it is, you can trust me with it. Whatever it is – no matter how terrible you think it is – I am here for you, okay? I am here for you because I love you.”

“I know, Derek. I know. It's just...”

Her phone rang then, interrupting whatever she might've said. She offered him a look of apology as she answered. “Hello, Dr. Blake...”

Derek watched as her face shifted through several different emotions before landing on relief.

“Oh, thank God...” she said in a rush of breath. “Thank you so much!”

By the time she hung up the pone, his own expression was a combination of concern and confusion. “Your spine doctor?” he asked, brow arched. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded, looking – for the first time in a week – like everything was in fact okay.

“Then what was that all about?”

“Oh, umm...” She scrabbled for the first believable lie to come to mind. “During training the other day, I felt something pop in my neck and I was afraid I might've done major damage, so I just had Dr. Blake do an x-ray to be sure. She was just calling to tell me everything is fine.” She plastered on the best smile she could manage given the situation.

“Oh. Well, why didn't you tell me?”

She sighed, offered a soft apologetic smile, looking up at him through her lashes. “Because I know how protective you can get. Don't get me wrong, it's really sweet that you care about me, but sometimes it can be a bit...much.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, apology as genuine as the embrace that he pulled her into.

When he kissed her temple, she felt a resounding pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach; after they'd gotten back together, she'd promised herself she would never lie to him again and she'd just broken that promise in a very real and shameful way.

She couldn't lose him again and she _wanted_ to be honest, _but_...

He kissed her then, entirely too hungrily and she was very tempted to give in to him and hope the churning in her gut might leave her alone for even a short while, but her phone rang yet again.

She growled low in her throat at yet another interruption, pulling it from her back pocket. “It's Mother,” she muttered. She was tempted to ignore it, but knew her mother well enough to know they'd never get a moment of peace until she answered.

Giving him another look of apology, she locked herself in the bathroom to answer, leaving him to wander the confines of her dorm. It didn't take long before he spied her Vonnegut collection propped neatly on her desk and, as he reached for the nearest one, he couldn't help but spot a notepad face down on the desk.

He didn't mean to invade her privacy, but his curiosity got the best of him in that moment...


	38. Chapter 38

“ _Ugh_ ,” Emily gave a protracted groan, slamming the bathroom door behind her. “Is it too late to get emancipated, you think?” She glared down at her phone like it had personally done her a great wrong before slipping it back in her pocket and turning her full attention back to Derek.

He didn't bother humouring her. He gestured forcefully with the notepad. “What the hell is this?” It was part anger, part confusion, and – if she wasn't mistaken – part hurt.

“How did you find that?” she asked, voice trembling a little in spite of her best attempt to maintain a calm and even temper.

“You didn't exactly _hide_ it,” he pointed out. “I'll ask you again – _what_ is it?”

She let out a slow measured breath, held up her hands in self-defence. “Okay, you have to promise not to get upset...” He nodded hesitantly and it was all too clear that his patience with her was wearing thin. “I thought I might be pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” he repeated. “Like... Like _pregnant_?”

“I know – it's... _a lot_. But it's okay because I'm not.” She offered a smile.

“Why... Why didn't you say anything?”

“I was just...trying to work through it. I needed to make sense of how I felt about it before I told you because I knew it would just make everything _complicated_.”

“And this is...what?” he asked, voice edging more into anger. “A pro/con list of-of telling me?”

She felt her cheeks heat up with shame. “Of having an abortion,” she said meekly. She could see his expression turning cold, so she rushed to explain, “I know it sounds awful, but we are _kids_ , Derek. Kids whose entire futures depend on the next few months. So, _no_ , I don't want to have a baby right now!”

“But what about me, Em? What about what I want?”

“I was _going_ to tell you,” she insisted. Once I knew what I wanted to do...”

“And if I wanted something different?” he pressed.

“I don't know,” she admitted, throwing her hands up in the air. “We'd talk about it, I guess. But, Derek, I'm _not_ , okay?”

“That's not the point, Emily! The point is you trusting me enough to tell me things that affect my life too!”

Now that he was getting angry, she could feel her blood starting to boil too. “I'm sorry, were _you_ going to be pregnant?” she snapped. “Were _you_ going to give up your Olympic dreams to push a kid out your crotch?”

“All I'm asking is for a discussion, Emily!” he shouted.

“Fine. Discuss.” She gestured widely. “Pour your heart out. Tell me all the great reasons you want to be a dad at sixteen...”

“God, Em!” he started in on her.

“No, Derek, you don't get it!” she interrupted before he could go on a diatribe. “You don't know what it would have been like to be stared at and whispered about everywhere I go. You don't know what it would be like to be _judged_ – no one judges the teenage dad, no one calls him a whore... You wouldn't have been forced to sacrifice your entire life's work. Not to mention that my mother isn't nearly as understanding as yours – I don't even want to begin to imagine what her reaction would have been. So, forgive me if I've put my future ahead of yours right now.”

She wasn't wrong and they both knew it.

But that didn't mean Derek – and his damned pride – was ready to admit that...

“I would have given up rugby for you. For the baby.”

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “You sure about that?” she countered. “You'd give up an Olympic medal? You'd give up endorsement deals and photo shoots and magazine articles? You'd give up a shot at the professional leagues?”

“Yes.”

“ _Really_?” she challenged. “You'd be content to sit at home and watch a baby instead of getting your diploma and going out with your friends? You'd be fine getting up all hours of the night to change diapers and bottle-feed? You'd be fine sacrificing _everything_ for the next eighteen years?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he insisted. “Because I'd be doing it with _you_. Sure it would be hard, but we'd be together. So, no, I don't care if I have to get my GED instead of finishing high school. No, I don't mind sleepless nights and diaper changes and not having two cents to rub together. No, I don't give a fuck if I never play rugby again...because I'd have you and our child.” She seemed about to argue, so he pressed on without giving her a chance, “Sure it would suck and it would be hard and we'd struggle, but I want a future with you, no matter what it looks like.”

She made a strangled noise somewhere been a laugh and a sob. “I don't want that, Derek,” she rasped. “I don't want to struggle. I don't want to live paycheck to paycheck. I don't want to give up being a teenager and I _certainly_ don't want to give up everything I've worked for.”

He chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head slowly. “I guess I can't help but wonder then...do you want _me_?”

“Derek, I...” She faltered, struggling to put her thoughts into words.

“It's real simple: either you want me in your future or you don't,” he said flatly. “And if you don't, then I don't know why we're wasting our time here.”

Emily inhaled shakily, trying to hide the way her hands trembled at her sides. “Derek, we're sixteen, do we really need to decide this _now_?” She laughed a little hysterically.

“You didn't seem to have a problem deciding the rest of your life with _him_ ,” he countered coldly, quite obviously referring to Ian.

“That's not the same and you know it!” she snapped, dangerously close to tears.

“Sure it is. Either you see us getting married and starting a family one day or we're wasting our time. Which is it?”

“I...” She swallowed thickly, blinking too often. “I... I don't know...”

He nodded slowly, looking like he'd expected that answer, but had hoped against it. Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and walked out of her dorm and, she was certain, out of her life forever.


	39. Chapter 39

Pausing outside the weight room, Emily took a deep fortifying breath, attempting to mentally prepare herself for whatever waited on the other side of that door.

There was nothing she particularly _disliked_ about strength training... Except for the fact that it was where everyone came to gossip. And, if she were going to run into Derek anywhere, it would probably be there. (Not that she didn't _want_ to see him, but things were still rather _complicated_ and she was so not good at navigating complicated...)

But she needed to make sure her arms were in perfect bar routine condition, so she'd face the gossip and maybe (ex?) boyfriends because that's what it took to win medals and right now, winning medals was all she could afford to focus on.

So, exhaling slowly, she pushed open the door and plastered on a smile the way her mother had taught her.

She'd arrived rather early in the morning, hoping to find the space empty – or at least empty of anyone she knew – but she just wasn't that lucky, apparently... From her vantage point as she stopped at the water fountain to fill her water bottle, she could see several beach volleyball players using the machines and loitering about chatting.

“Emily!” a familiar voice greeted boisterously.

“Oh, hey...” She waved half-heartedly. She wasn't exactly in the mood to chat, but she didn't want to be rude either (it's not like she could exactly afford to turn down a friend...).

Originally, she'd only known Tara and her volleyball partner Elle cursorily from various functions and crossing paths on campus. Then, one night, she and JJ had been at the local pub and, having drawn the short straw, was the only one sober enough to drive Tara to the hospital when she'd broken her beer bottle and cut her hand on the glass. Tara had needed six stitches in her palm and had apparently sworn a life-debt to Emily, creating a weird quasi-friendship bond between them.

“Have you heard the big news?” Tara asked. She grunted as she tossed the medicine ball to Elle, who was doing sit-ups opposite her.

“Umm...what news?” she asked, kind of hoping word of Chloe's pregnancy had gotten out, if only because she enjoyed a little schadenfreude. (Of course, she knew that if word _had_ gotten out, Chloe would inevitably blame her, but that was a whole can of worms she had no interest in dealing with just then.)

“Elle and I just got the news! The Association of Volleyball Professionals wants to sign us once the Olympics are over!” Tara cried, nearly missing the medicine ball Elle sent flying back. “We're going pro!”

“No way!” Emily exclaimed. “That's incredible!”

“We're going to the pub later to celebrate – first round's on us,” Elle said. “Want to join us?”

Emily snorted. “As fun as that sounds, I'm already on thin ice with my coach – he'd kill me if he found out...”

“Guess those of us without contracts have to play by the rules,” Tara teased. “Have fun being a square.”

“Ha ha,” Emily scoffed teasingly. “Have fun getting plastered.”

“Goody two shoes,” Elle called after her jokingly.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway as she adjusted the weight on the bicep curl machine. She was happy for them – really, she was... But she was also _seethingly_ jealous.

There was no such thing as a 'professional' gymnastics career. Sure, she might get work doing stunts for movies or TV, but there wasn't exactly enormous demand for that. Other than that, Cirque du Soleil was the end of the line as far as being paid for stunting goes.

She'd been trying to mentally prepare herself for that inevitable fizzling out from the time she was first able to comprehend that gymnastics didn't last forever. The problem was that she had no idea what she wanted – gymnastics had been her life for so long, she'd never bothered to form an identity outside of it. And, though she'd never admit it, her mother may have had a point when she pestered her endlessly to form a _brand_ that she could use to launch her future.

Because, the truth was, her career ended that summer. Win or lose. Medal or not.

And, while JJ could play professional soccer and Derek could play professional rugby and even Spencer could play professional golf...where could she go?

Maybe that was part of the reason she'd pushed Derek away. She couldn't even begin to fathom how hard it would be to stand by his side while, year after year, he got to keep doing what he loved while she had no choice but to say goodbye to the last sixteen years of her life.

He had a whole career – a _life_ – ahead of him and all she had was _now_.

Well, and _him_...

Honestly, that had scared the hell out of her. Not that she'd loved him more than she'd ever loved someone – more than she ever thought she'd be _able_ to love someone – but rather that he'd loved _her_. So _fiercely_ , so _passionately_ , that he'd been willing to move Heaven and Earth to be with her.

She wasn't sure she could love him the same. With the same all-consuming devotion. Not after Ian.

She'd tried _so_ hard to love him back with her whole heart, her whole soul. But no matter how hard she'd tried, she just couldn't give that much of herself to him.

She was afraid she couldn't give that much of herself to anyone.

That she was...broken.

So, she'd pushed him away. The only good thing in her life. And she didn't think he was ever coming back.

It was better that way.

At least, that's what she told herself.

Because she wasn't sure she could give him what he wanted – give him that promise of forever. Perhaps, in an ideal world, she could one day be the loving wife and mother he wanted her to be.

But if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that this was far from an _ideal_ world.


	40. Chapter 40

Panting, Emily dabbed sweat off her face and neck with a towel as she left the weight room. She could already feel the soreness leeching into her muscles after the punishing workout she'd put herself through.

She was debating heading to her room and maybe consider thinking about asking Derek to talk when she heard a familiar laugh. Derek's laugh. “ _Shit_ ,” she hissed. She wasn't ready to face him – she needed time to rehearse what she wanted to say and mentally prepare and...

“Hey, Princess!”

Too late. He'd seen her.

She plastered on a tight smile. “Oh, hey, Derek.” She gave an awkward little wave, then tried to disguise the movement by fixing her hair.

He cleared his throat, looking every bit as awkward as she felt. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him doubt himself like that... “How have you been?” he asked, winced at the stupid small talk when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go.

She shrugged. “Can't complain.” If she were being honest, of course, all she wanted to do was complain that she barely knew who she was anymore without him by her side.

He cleared his throat again and she realized he was looking anywhere but at her. She frowned, glanced down at herself and realized her shirt was nearly see-through with sweat and she'd neglected to wear a sports bra. She felt her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and, without a word, Derek unzipped his hoody and held it out to her.

Smiling her thanks, she pulled it on over top of her clothes. “So, I, umm...” she started, stopped, not sure what she wanted to say.

She was saved the trouble when he started the conversation for her, “Listen... I know things are still a little awkward, but, umm, Matt and Kristy invited us on a double date and I didn't want to tell them what had happened, so I kind of agreed we'd go...”

“What?” she asked, deadpan.

“I know, I know...” He offered an apologetic smile. “But this is just a stupid fight – it's not like we're broken up.”

“It's not?”

“No.” He paused, frowned. “Wait...did you think we were?”

She shrank in on herself, uncharacteristically meek. “Well, yeah...” she admitted quietly. “You said we were wasting our time and then you left.”

“Yeah, because we were fighting,” he said as if it were obvious. “You say things you don't mean because you're angry and then later you regret them, but can't call and admit you were wrong because you're a stupid prideful prick and you aren't sure the other person wants to talk to you anyway, so you're miserable because all you want is to have them back.”

“But...” she stammered. “But you said... You said...”

“I know,” he said, not giving her the chance to repeat all the stupid things he'd said that day because he couldn't stand to relive just how much of a jerk he'd been to someone he loved so dearly. “I was an asshole, I admit it.”

For a few moments, her mouth hung open as she tried to form a coherent thought in the face of his self-professed stupidity. “What about all those things you said about needing to know we're going to get married or something someday? Because, Derek, I still don't know what I want in the future.”

“You were right,” he said seriously. “We're kids and I was getting way ahead of myself. I barely know what's going to happen tomorrow, let alone twenty or thirty years from now and it was selfish of me to expect you to predict the future.”

For a few moments, an unfamiliar silence fell between them, both with too many things to say and not enough courage to say them.

Emily broke the silence first with a quiet, “So...” Without realizing it, she'd started picking at her nails – more out of habit than anything else.

Derek arched a brow, waiting for her to continue, but his smile was warm and encouraging. He silently reached over to stop her fidgeting with a hand rested on top of hers.

“About this double date...”

He at least had the decency to look mildly chagrined. “I know, it's not exactly great timing, but I knew Matt would never let me live it down if I told him what had happened after I dumped Savannah for you, so I pretended everything was fine. It's just for one evening and then you can go right back to hating my guts if that's what you want.”

“Derek...” she said on a sigh.

“I promise not to bother you anymore after this,” he pleaded.

“I highly doubt that,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear her.

“Hey!” he whined, pouted.

She couldn't help the smile that quirked up her lips at his theatrics. “Sweetie, all you ever do is bother me. But I put up with it because I love you.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Well, in that case, can I bother you some more and walk you back to your dorm?” he suggested with a hopeful smile.

She affixed him with a pointed look. “You just want to make sure I don't steal this hoody like I did your other sweatshirt...”

“Can you blame me?” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side as they walked. “At this rate, I'm not going to have any clothes left.”

“Yeah and you'd _hate_ having to go shirtless all the time,” she scoffed. She'd watched enough rugby practice to know that if there was an opportunity to take off his shirt, Derek never failed to jump on it like an action hero jumping on a live grenade.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” he teased.

“You wish.”

“I think you're jealous,” he repeated. “Princess can't stand other girls looking at her toy...”

She lightly shoved him away. “Keep it up and you'll go right back in the dog house,” she threatened with a playful glare as she walked backwards away from him.

He laughed, jogging after her. “Come on, Princess, you know you love me.”


	41. Chapter 41

“You look like such a nerd.”

“Just because all _your_ ties are clip-on...” Derek retorted as he adjusted his tie in the mirror in preparation for the double date that evening.

“I think he looks very charming,” Kristy pointedly corrected Matt from her spot on the edge of his bed where she was fixing her lipstick in her compact mirror.

“Emily happens to like it when I wear a tie,” Derek added matter-of-factly.

Matt scoffed. “Emily this, Emily that... Do you ever talk about anything _other_ than Emily?” he griped.

“They're in the honeymoon stage, it's sweet,” Kristy said, fixing Matt with a decidedly _shut up_ kind of look. “ _Besides_ , I'm excited to finally get to meet the girl that so thoroughly swept Derek Morgan off his feet.”

“I think you'll really like her,” Derek said, “I know you wanted me to hit it off with Savannah, but...” He shrugged, not entirely sure how to finish that statement. He offered a look of apology. He genuinely had liked Savannah, just...not with the same all-consuming heart-rending devotion he felt for Emily.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Kristy agreed. “Which is why I'm still with Matt after smelling his rugby gear...”

“Hey!” Matt whined. “My gear does _not_ smell that bad.”

Derek snorted. “Marry her, dude. That gear could repel _bears_. Actual real live bears.”

“Speaking of marriage...” Kristy interrupted before Matt could make some smart aleck comment that would land him in the dog house, “Is Emily _The One_?”

He shrugged again, but focused determinedly on the mirror to avoid meeting anyone's gaze, knowing they'd read him as easily as a book from his smile alone.

“Well, do you love her?”

“He does,” Matt answered for him, “I've heard them on the phone with each other – it's sickening, really.”

Kristy rolled her eyes. “Well, what about after the Olympics? Are you going to stay together?”

“I haven't really talked to her about it,” Derek admitted. “I mean, we both graduate high school next year and after that Mama wants me to go to college, so I guess it depends on where I end up. In an ideal world, yeah, we'd both go to the same school and I'd play college ball for awhile and she could work as a coach or something until we graduate. We could get a little place together and...”

Matt and Kristy shared a look.

“What?” Derek asked, interrupting himself as he waxed poetic, watching their silent exchange.

“Dude, you've got your whole future planned out already,” Matt pointed out the obvious. “Derek and Emily sitting in a tree...”

He sighed, shook his head. He didn't want to bring up the whole argument he and Emily had had about their future – because he absolutely _did_ want that future – knowing that if he did, Matt would make it his business to bring it up at every opportunity that evening which would only piss Emily off after she'd made it abundantly clear that she had no intention of making promises of forever that she couldn't necessarily keep.

...

“Do you ever think about the future?” Derek asked, almost apropos of nothing as they walked hand in hand together across campus, enjoying the stars glittering down from the darkened sky. (Or, rather, she stared up at the stars in wonder and he stared at her the same way...)

“Sure.”

“Like _our_ future?” he prompted when she said nothing more on the subject.

“Derek...” Emily said warningly. She didn't want to end their beautiful night by reopening that still-festering wound.

“Not like marriage and kids,” he quickly insisted. “Like next year. Like what happens after the Olympics are over.”

“Oh.” She went quiet, thoughtful. “I guess I've kind of been focused on the Games themselves, I haven't really stopped to think about it. Why? Have you?”

He shrugged, trying to act as if he'd just pulled the thought from thin air. “Just something that Matt and Kristy said earlier.” They fell silent again. She linked her arm with his, leaning into his shoulder. “What are you planning to do after graduation?” he eventually piped up again, pressing the issue and his luck.

“Probably an undergrad in kinesiology, maybe go into sports psychology after that,” she said. “Mother thinks I should wait on college, though. Do some modelling, maybe go into acting. But, I don't know, I can't imagine wasting my life – my training – like that. I might write a book, though. Like Shawn Johnson or Jennifer Sey.” She looked up at him, smiled softly. “What about you?”

“I guess it depends on whether or not I can get a scholarship. Mama can't exactly afford to send me to school.” He must have thought that sounded judgemental of her silver spoon upbringing because he quickly rephrased, “I don't mind, though. There's plenty of athletic scholarships out there. Even if I have to travel somewhere more rugby friendly like New Zealand.” Again, he winced, realizing that that may have sounded like he was rubbing it in her face that he could get a scholarship and she probably couldn't. “I'm sorry, I keep sticking my foot in my mouth here...”

She laughed softly. “I find it charming, in a clumsy kind of way.”

“That's why I love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Will we still, you know, try to date?”

She'd suspected he was leading the conversation there, but had kind of hoped he wouldn't, if only because she didn't want to make promises of forever when she could barely promise tomorrow. “I don't know,” she admitted. She leaned up to kiss him, perhaps a bit sadly. “But I know I love you right now. Is that enough?”

“It's enough,” he agreed quietly.

For a long time, silence fell between them and she couldn't help but feel that he wasn't content with that answer. “I also know that there's a slot for two people at the tattoo parlour for tomorrow afternoon...” she said, hoping to take his mind off the distant future and onto something she _could_ agree to.


	42. Chapter 42

There came a scrabbling sound from under the bed, then a heavy coughing sound. Then, finally a loud bang.

“Damn it!” Emily yelped, rubbing the growing welt on her head. “Stupid fucking...”

“You alright down there, Princess?” Derek asked, watching with amusement the struggling of her legs sticking out from under the bed as she rummaged about in search of her fake ID.

“Fine,” she said. “Just inhaled a dust bunny. And knocked off a few IQ points.”

“Maybe Reid will let you borrow a few of his,” he joked, flopping down on her bed. He grabbed a fashion magazine off the nightstand, flipping through it.

“Ow! _Derek_!” she hissed as the sudden dip in the bed made her bang her head again.

Even though she couldn't see, he made a big production of reading the magazine. “Oooh – _twenty things to wear that drive men wild_ ,” he read in a dramatic falsetto voice. “I'll be the judge of that.”

“Would you get up and help me look?” she growled.

“How would I know where it is?” he asked, still perusing the article and occasionally reading snippets out loud. “You've seen my room, right?”

“You mean the pigsty in your dorm or the dumpster fire that is your room at home?” she asked, crawling out from under her bed. “Both of which, I might remind you, you've tried to feel me up in...”

“I could feel you up in _this_ room if that makes you feel better,” he offered, leaning over as if to kiss her, but instead brushing dust bunnies out of her hair.

“ _Derek_...”

He held his hands up in self-defence. “Fine – where should I look?”

She gestured vaguely in the direction of her desk as she moved on to search her closet. “Might I remind you, this whole thing was your stupid idea in the first place?”

“Where would you be without me and my stupid ideas?” he countered.

She shot him a frosty glare, making him cringe a little.

“Okay, fair.” He tossed a sheaf of paper off her desk. “You know, if you weren't so damn messy, we'd be getting tattoos right now.”

“ _Me_?” she said incredulously, rolling her eyes as followed after him and picked up the papers. “I'll go see Clyde to get a new fake; we can still get the tattoos done this afternoon.”

“Fucking Clyde Easter,” he muttered, pouting childishly. “I don't trust him...”

She rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd had a little tantrum over other guys who seemed more than politely interested in her. “You don't trust any guy who so much as looks at me,” she replied pointedly.

“No, I just don't trust _this_ guy,” he insisted. “He undresses you with his eyes every time he looks at you.”

She scoffed, not bothering to point out that if _she_ were to get jealous of every girl that looked at him a little too salaciously, she'd never stop being jealous...

“ _And_ ,” he continued, “He trains with you, so he always gets to see you in your skimpy little leotards.”

While that _was_ true, she certainly wasn't about to indulge his childish rivalry. “Is this because JJ said my type is any guy with a sexy accent and a...”

“She said _what_!?” he interrupted incredulously. “I thought _I_ was your type...”

She just laughed, patted him on the cheek, then kissed him. “You're so cute,” she cooed, not bothering to respond to his incredulity.

“That doesn't answer my question, Prentiss...”

...

“Long time, no see,” Clyde remarked airily, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, feet up on his desk. He made no secret of his eyes raking up and down her body.

“Not long enough,” she replied with false brightness while staring at him with death threats in her eyes.

“What do you need this time?” he asked, meeting her gaze and, if possible, smiling even wider at her irritation. “I assume you're not here because you ditched that hunk of meat you call your boyfriend and you want to make out...”

She snorted in derision. “In your dreams, Easter.”

“You know it.” He winked lecherously.

She just rolled her eyes. “If you can stop ogling me for five minutes, I need another fake. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course I'll help...for five hundred.” His grin turned wicked.

“ _Five_!? Last time it was two...”

“Last time I had a shot with you,” he replied with that same false brightness she'd had.

She dug her wallet out of her purse, pulling out her cash and counting it. “You're really a smarmy bastard, you know that, right?” she asked darkly.

“Is that any way to speak to your future boss?” he asked, snatching the proffered wad of bills and counting them for himself.

“Ha. Hilarious. And where are we working in this fantasy world of yours? Tumbling Tots at the YMCA?” she retorted.

“I'm opening up my own gym. After the Olympics.”

“Yeah, right.” She looked at him expectantly, like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke.

“I'm serious – and I'm bringing you with me,” he said. There was no trace of amusement in his face.

“In what lifetime am I going to be trained by _you_?” she asked. “You don't know the first thing about women's gymnastics. You barely know anything about _men's_ gymnastics and you've been training longer than I have...”

“Not as an athlete,” he corrected. “As a coach...”

For a few moments, she stood there, mouth hanging open slightly. She had no sarcastic remark, no snappy retort, years of high-priced education failing her in that moment as Clyde Easter offered her something she'd never actually dared to hope for because she knew her mother would never approve and Ian would never have allowed. “I...” she stammered, “I... I don't...”

“Think about it,” he encouraged, saving her from having to form a coherent thought. He flicked the new fake ID across the room in her direction.


	43. Chapter 43

“Hey, Mama!” Derek greeted brightly, wandering into the kitchen and immediately rummaging in the fridge for something to eat.

“Derek! What a lovely surprise – what's my baby doing here?” Fran asked, pulling him into an embrace as he emerged from the fridge with an apple in both hands. Then, for good measure, she kissed both his cheeks.

“ _Mama_ ,” he whined, “I'm sixteen – I'm not a _baby_ anymore.”

“You'll always be my baby and don't you forget it,” she informed him seriously, wagging a finger at him as if in threat. “So, to what do I owe this visit?” she asked. “Besides eating me out of house and home...”

“What? Can't a guy just visit his mama for no reason?”

“If it were anyone else, I might be inclined to say yes, but since it's you we're talking about...” She laughed at the stricken expression on her son's face. “Usually you come to wash a mountain of clothes or for advice on girl problems.”

“Mama!” he squawked, feeling called out.

Fran sighed, shook her head. “Don't tell me you screwed up with Emily – I like that girl. You'd better be treating her right or...”

“I treat her like the princess she is,” he promised. “Everything's perfect between us.” When Fran's expression remained skeptical, he continued, “Well, she is _part_ of the reason I'm here... Check it out!” He pulled up his sleeve to expose the new tattoo just below his elbow, grinning proudly.

“Another one?” she asked on a sigh. “Oh, Derek...”

“It's not _just_ a tattoo,” he insisted, “It's a matching tattoo, Em got the same one.”

“The two of you got the same tattoo?” she asked for confirmation.

“Yeah – it's something that binds us together forever,” he informed her merrily until he noticed her face. “You don't seem very excited...”

Fran offered a trepidatious smile, patted him on the cheek gently. “I'm just wondering if the two of you have thought this through all the way. It's a big step.”

“Mama,” he groaned, trying not to roll his eyes. “It's not like we got married or anything. I mean, yeah, it's a commitment, but I'm totally serious about her.”

“I get that, Derek, really I do. But as much as I like Emily, I can't help but feel that you're moving too fast,” she said gently. “This is forever.”

“I hope so...”

“I meant the tattoo.”

“I know. That's the point.”

“Honey, I can see that you're very involved in this relationship, I'm just saying that what you think is forever at sixteen isn't necessarily so,” Fran said softly, offered a consoling smile. “And if things don't work out, you'll still have this tattoo as a reminder of your broken heart.”

“Mama, there's no such thing as forever. Look at Dad... Things can change very quickly, I know that. We both do. I also know that when I think about my future, two things are very clear to me: Emily and rugby. In that order.”

...

“I still can't believe you got a _tattoo_...” JJ said yet again as she helped Emily remove the bandage on her shoulder blade.

Emily snorted. “Why? Because I'm such a good girl?” She passed JJ the bottle of tattoo soap over her shoulder. “Be gentle,” she added.

JJ rolled her eyes because _duh_. “No, because you're now forever tied to Derek and you, my friend, are terrified of commitment,” she informed her as she carefully rubbed the soap on her shoulder.

“I am not,” she argued. JJ just looked at her in the mirror, unamused. “Okay, well, maybe it's not my favourite thing ever. But the tattoo isn't even about Derek, it's about the work I've put into the last sixteen years.”

“Fine, fine.” She held up her hands in surrender before going back to washing the tattoo. “You could have invited me...”

“Well, maybe it was a _little_ about Derek,” she muttered, cheeks pinking. “ _Anyway_ ,” she said pointedly, changing the subject, “You'll never guess what Clyde said...”

“Would this be Clyde with the sexy accent?” JJ interrupted, waggling her brows suggestively.

“Zip it,” she commanded with a roll of her eyes. “He said he's opening his own gym and he wants me to be a coach.”

“ _Really_? What did you say?”

She shrugged vaguely. “Nothing. I mean – what was I supposed to say? He just sprung it on me.”

“Well, do you _want_ to do it?” JJ pressed.

“I don't know,” she said with a grimace. “Maybe?” Admitting aloud that she was even _considering_ it made her stomach squirm with guilt even though she wasn't doing anything wrong.

“What did Derek say?”

“I haven't told him,” she admitted, ashamed. “And you can't say anything either!” she added as an afterthought. “Promise me!”

“I promise,” JJ said, rolling her eyes. “But why haven't you told him?”

Emily heaved a sigh. “We're already on shaky ground because...things. And I don't want him to think I'm trying to get rid of him or something...”

“Okay, Em, I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be honest,” JJ demanded. “Do you love him?”

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. “Yeah... I really do.”

“Then you need to tell him.”

“But what if he gets mad?” she asked meekly. “I don't want to ruin everything because of Clyde fucking Easter and his stupid schemes. I mean, he probably won't even go through with it and...”

She interrupted her meandering thought, “Emily, this is a huge step for your career – you need to tell him if you're even thinking about taking it. He'll want you to be happy and successful.”

“And if he breaks up with me?” she whispered, refusing to believe it was that simple.

“Then you still have a career ahead of you. And a shot at a sexy British guy...” She winked.

“Jayje...”

“I'm kidding,” she said in self-defence before returning to seriousness. “If you want your relationship to work, you need to be honest with him. You can't keep something like this a secret forever.”


	44. Chapter 44

Emily stomped into her room, hands clenched into fists at her side, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

Unfortunately, said provocation came in the form of her boyfriend trying his best...

“Surprise!” Derek cried, brandishing a sign he'd obviously made by hand that said **CONGRATS YOU'RE AN OLYMPIAN** in bold neon letters and a blinding amount of glitter.

“Leave, Derek,” she said as politely as she could manage just then. She busied herself emptying the contents of her gym bag into the laundry so she didn't have to look at him.

“But...” he started to protest, brow creasing with confusion. “But I...”

“ _Leave_ ,” she repeated, still not meeting his eyes.

“Em, what happened? I thought we were going to celebrate?” he asked. “If you don't want...”

“I _want_ you to _leave_ , Derek! What is so damn confusing about that simple command?” she snapped, whirling around to face him, eyes puffy and red with withheld angry tears.

“Emily,” he murmured, “What's gotten into you?” He dared to take a few cautious steps towards her, one hand held out to reach for hers.

She took several steps backwards out of his reach, looking like she'd very much like to throw something at him just then. “I didn't make the fucking team, obviously!”

“What? How is that possible? Em, you're incredible – how could you not have...” he babbled.

“You tell me,” she said darkly, positively glowering at him. “Maybe it's because I've been fucking around with you instead of training,” she shot back. “Before I met you, I practically _lived_ in the gym – it was my whole life and you... _You_...”

“What are you suggesting?” he asked, trying not to raise his voice, trying not to get angry in spite of her hurtful words.

“You're a distraction,” she said matter-of-factly. “And now I'm a fucking _alternate_ when I should be an Olympian!”

“Em, this isn't the end of the world – you're still on the team. Anything could happen, you could still compete and even if you don't...”

“ _Leave_ , Derek! Just leave!” she growled. “I don't want your bullshit 'look on the bright side' philosophy right now!”

He held up his hands in supplication. “Okay, I'm leaving,” he said gently. “But I'm going to call you tomorrow. After you've cooled off. Just...remember I love you, okay?”

...

“Were we robbed?” JJ asked, taking a few cautious steps into the dorm which had, apparently been either ransacked or the victim of a very localized tornado.

Emily whipped her head around to glower at the intruder.

“Whoa!” JJ said, seeing her stare, holding up her hands in self-defence. “What did I do?”

“Oh, it's just you,” Emily muttered, suddenly losing interest. “I thought you were Derek.”

“I've never seen you save that particular terrifying expression for the great Derek Morgan...” JJ said leadingly.

“I'm mad at him,” she informed her gravely.

“Because...?”

“Because of his bad timing,” she muttered, more to herself than to JJ, as she returned to tearing the room apart.

“Dare I ask what happened?” She approached warily behind Emily, dodging errant clothing missiles sent in her direction.

“He showed up here to celebrate what _should_ have been my admission to the Olympic gymnastics team...”

“How _dare_ he,” JJ said sarcastically.

Emily continued her story with a pointed glare over her shoulder. “I didn't make the fucking team and he just wouldn't _leave_ , even though I kept telling him to go, and he was being his stupidly positive self and I just _snapped_.”

“Of course you did,” JJ said, shaking her head pitifully.

“What?” Emily asked, unamused.

“Your MO is to be a total bitch to someone who's just trying to help you,” she pointed out. “I mean, I love you and everything, but you're basically Wednesday Addams in a leotard.” She offered a playfully condescending smile to show she was (mostly) kidding. “What does all that have to do with the natural disaster that occurred here?” she asked then, gesturing widely at the room. “Which – by the way – I am _not_ cleaning up...”

...

Emily carefully set the small velvet covered box on the floor outside Derek's door, then knocked on the door and prepared to run away. But, before she got the chance, she turned around to find Derek standing there watching her, one brow raised curiously.

“Oh...” she said, eyes wide. “Umm...hi.”

“Isn't that supposed to be a flaming bag of dog poop?” he asked teasingly, nodding at the item she'd left behind. Then, before she could answer, he'd wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I've missed you...”

She couldn't help the small smile that broke out on her lips. “I saw you like four hours ago,” she pointed out.

“I know. I just... I wasn't sure I was ever going to see you again,” he admitted.

“I deserved that,” she said softly. “I deserve a lot of things, but I _don't_ deserve you and your apparently never-ending forgiveness.”

He shrugged as if the matter were out of his hands. “I love you,” he said simply.

“I love you too,” she echoed, standing on her tiptoes to bring their lips together. “That's why I wanted you to have this,” she added, bending down to pick up the little jeweller’s box.

“What is it?” he asked, taking the box from her with reverence.

“Open it.”

He followed her command and, for several long moments, stared down at the box's contents - in awe. “Em, this... This is beautiful. But I can't accept this – it's got to be very valuable.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “It belonged to my grandfather,” she explained. “He was an Olympian too – downhill skiing. This pin is the Saint Bernard of Montjoux – the patron saint of the Alps and winter sports. His mother gave this to him when he won his first international race. He wore it at every competition. He gave it to me when I left France; he told me he always believed in me. Now I want you to have it.”

He pushed the box back into her hands. “Em, this is a family heirloom, I can't accept this. It's too much.”

She shook her head, refusing to accept his refusal. “Does it mean something to me? Of course. But so do you. And I want you to have it because I believe in you.” Then, because she just couldn't help herself, she added, “Someone who's actually going to compete needs it more than I do.”

He squished her against his chest again and told her firmly. “Just you wait and see, Princess – your story isn't over quite yet.”


	45. Chapter 45

It was late in the evening and the gym was nearly deserted – all the other girls on her team had gone back to their dorms to prepare for the Opening Ceremonies that night – but Emily remained, determined to nail her floor routine... Even if no one ever got to see it.

Floor was her best event. Her ballet-inspired routines were legendary in the gymnastics world and this year she'd been determined to outdo herself. She'd created a piece inspired by _Sleeping Beauty's_ Rose Adage – an infamously difficult piece of choreography – that would have left people talking for _years_ , she was certain.

If only...

She'd spent the last several hours perfecting each second of the choreography, leaving herself nearly spent, but she was determined to run the whole thing through one last time, _perfectly_. At least _one_ stage-worthy performance.

She turned a few pirouettes in an attempt to get her energy up, her smile in place, but the spark wasn't here and she fell out of her turn lazily.

“Only three?” Ian remarked from across the room where he'd been watching. “It's like you're not even trying.”

“I was just marking,” she replied, resting her hands on her hips to stare at him. “Let's see _you_ turn three pirouettes.”

“Mouthy little thing,” he muttered, but it was clear he was only teasing her...though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

“What do you want, Ian?” She wiped sweat off her brow with her wrist. Normally, there would have been heat behind her words, but something about his expression made her falter.

“You're still down here practicing...” he said. “Why?”

“Isn't that the point of being an _alternate_?” she said, spitting the word like it was poison. “Being prepared, just in case...”

“Emily...” he started.

“I mean, I get it if you want to punish me for breaking off the engagement or whatever, but how could you possibly let your own personal vendetta get in the way of my future?”

“Emily...” he tried again.

“How could you sideline me – when we both know I'm the better gymnast – just so your new whore could compete?” she hissed.

“Emily, Chloe won't be competing. You'll be taking her place,” he finally informed her when she stopped to take a breath.

“What?” she said more than asked.

“She's...indisposed,” he said slowly.

Emily raised a brow, skeptical. She opened her mouth to make a scathing remark about _why_ she was indisposed, but for whatever reason, decided not to.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence between them. “I'm sorry,” he said at length, “About how everything ended...” He crossed the distance between them to rest a gentle hand on her upper arm.

She shook her head, sighed. “It's too late, Ian.”

“Were you ever happy?” he asked, seemingly unable to help himself. “With me?”

“Does it matter?” she said, rather than answering.

“I suppose not.” It was clear in his face, though, that he very much would have liked to know.

Emily, for her part, honestly didn't know the answer. She cleared her throat, shaking him out of his trance and he withdrew his hand from her arm as if only just realizing it was still there.

“Your neck's alright?” he asked, almost apropos of nothing.

“It's fine,” she said simply.

“Good. Because I expect all those medals will be heavy.”

She couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up at that.

“Run through it again,” he commanded. “From the top.”

...

Emily knocked tentatively on the door to Derek's room in Athlete's Village. Her stomach was in knots with the knowledge that she finally had to stop putting off telling Derek the truth...

“Come in!” Derek hollered from somewhere inside.

She followed his voice to find him sitting fully clothed in the empty bathtub in the en-suite bathroom. “Dare I ask?” she said, brow raised curiously.

“Check out this bathtub!” he exclaimed in answer, “It's practically a swimming pool.” He smirked mischievously then. “How about we get rid of our clothes and have a little party in here...”

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “That's one party you're not invited to,” she teased.

He clapped a hand over his heart as if physically wounded, pouting dramatically. He couldn't maintain the facade for long, though. “Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

She cleared her throat, took a fortifying breath, trying to prepare herself for his reaction, but almost immediately faltered. “I came here to talk to you about something, but seeing you so happy...I guess I just changed my mind.”

“Hey, come on...” He climbed out of the tub and immediately pulled her into his chest in a tender embrace. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nodded, but made no attempt to deliver the news.

“So, what's going on?” he prompted at her continued silence.

She sighed, tongue flicking out over her top lip. She couldn't do it. Couldn't tear his heart in two like this. She said the first thing that came to her mind in its place, “Guess who's officially part of the gymnastics team?”

“Really? Congrats, baby!” He held her at arms length so she could see how genuinely happy he was for her. “I told you,” he added with a wink. “I knew it. We're going to celebrate tonight!” She must have given him a skeptical look because he quickly amended, “Don't worry, it doesn't _have_ to be a party in the tub... Though, if you wanted...” He waggled his brows.

She barked out a little laugh. “You're incorrigible. Anyway, I should go... I have to get ready for the Opening Ceremonies.”

She made it halfway to the door before she stopped, heaved a shaky breath, and turned back to face him, her expression so doleful that it nearly took his breath away.

“That's, umm, that's not the truth...” she whispered, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“What's not?” he asked, barely daring to breathe in the face of her tremulous emotional state.

“That's not what I came here to say...”


	46. Chapter 46

Derek's smile as he looked at her was so full of love and tenderness that she nearly broke then and there, nearly changed her mind because how could she possibly give up on someone who loved her so dearly when she wasn't certain she'd ever find that again?

He reached out to take her hands in his, squeezing them gently in silent reassurance that he was there for her. “What is it?” he asked, smiled softly, encouragingly.

She tried to smile back, but it came off as more of a grimace; she let out a shaky breath and tried to force a more genuine smile. One thumb swept across her knuckles and she focused on that movement so she didn't have to meet his gaze. “I'm going to London,” she whispered. “Moving there, actually.”

“What?” he breathed like all the air had been forced from his lungs. “Why? For how long?”

She winced at his reaction. She'd expected it – worse, actually – but that didn't make it any easier to face. “I was offered a job coaching the women's team at a new gym.” She tried to sound cheerful about it, but could only dredge up pained disinterest.

If she'd been watching his expression, rather than staring down at his hands, she would have seen his face harden. “Is this about Doyle?” he asked gravely, any positivity he might have felt for her tempered by the idea of her being anywhere near that bastard.

She looked up sharply. “What? No! _Clyde_ is the one who offered me the job.”

He raised a brow, appearing none too pleased about that option either.

Apparently reading his mind, she vowed, “I have no interest in him, I swear. This is just about the job and he knows that. He knows that I'm committed to you – to  _us_ .”

“But...” he started, faltered. “What about your life here?”

“What life?” she asked earnestly. “What future do I have here?” She watched his face fall and rushed to correct herself. “I love you, Derek, but I need more in my life than just _that_. I'm only sixteen, I have lots of time to settle down, but that's not what I want right now – you know that.”

He nodded slowly, sadly. “But what about us?” he asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

“I... I don't know,” she offered sadly. She shrank in on herself, feeling far too exposed under his intense gaze.

“So, this is goodbye?”

“Not if we don't want it to me,” she said, almost begging. “We can email and Skype and...and visit sometimes. Maybe you could join a rugby team in England and...”

“For how long?” he asked, interrupting her spiel.

“What?”

“How long can we go without seeing each other, without _holding_ each other? How long can we pretend that's enough? That's not what _I_ want, Em, you know that. I want _everything_ with you...”

“I love you, Derek,” she vowed again, “But this is something I have to do.”

He stroked a hand along her cheek, then leaned in to kiss her.

“You think I should stay...” she whispered when they broke apart.

“I think I miss you already.”


End file.
